Hatstall
by Wisteria22
Summary: Alice, daughter of two film stars, has been dying to go to Hogwarts. Everyone expects her to take after her mother, Dymphna, and attend W.A.D.A. Determined to be different and better, Alice pushes herself to excel at Hogwarts, attempting to be the very best. How will she fare with a basilisk on the loose, Slytherin stigma, and her housemates being convinced she's muggleborn?
1. Chapter 1

The year was 1992.

A young girl with black locks sighed, kicking at the back of the seat in front of her slightly. An older man, with a trimmed mustache, held out a hand to prohibit the behavior from her. She sighed, slouching back in her seat, staring at the stage with indifference.

Attending a Broadway production wasn't anything new for Alice Holmes. As the only child of Edmund Holmes and Dymphna Blackstone, she was constantly being dragged off to theater performances and premieres.

Tonight, it was her mother's turn on the stage, staring in a production of Shakespeare's _Othello._ Staring alongside her was a young man, known for playing a detective on the telly—Alice could never remember his name, as it was far too complicated for anyone to bother pronouncing.

"Your mother is simply marvelous," the older man whispered giddily. "This is really quite the treat, Alice!"

Alice shrugged, rolling her eyes a bit. _You wouldn't think it was this amazing if you knew she was cheating._ She frowned a bit, watching the way her mother was throttled and convincingly died, her lips even having a touch of blue on them.

"You really should take more pride in this," the man admonished. "Not everyone can do what she can do."

 _That's because she uses magic to be better than everyone else._ Alice snickered a bit, though an arm from her left silenced her quickly. It was her father, who winked at her and sat back, enjoying the conclusion of the play.

She groaned a bit, shutting her eyes. The man with the funny name delivered a few closing lines, and then Alice could hear a thud.

"Is it over?" she whispered to her father, squirming slightly in her seat.

"Almost," he promised, squeezing her hand.

Alice grinned, and when she heard the play finally come to conclusion, she was dying to get out of her seat. Her mother bowed to the audience as flowers were thrown at the stage. In the midst of the crowd of grown ups, Alice was completely lost and forgotten.

She frowned sharply, jealous at the attention her mother gave everyone else. In an instant, the flowers and adorations turned into butterflies, flying off towards the ceiling.

There was stunned silence.

Then they burst into applause again, marveling at the trick that the legendary _Dymphna Blackstone_ had performed. Alice blushed a bit, though if she was completely truthful, she was glad that her magic would manifest itself every now and then.

Her name may have been down for W.A.D.A., the Wizarding Academy of the Dramatic Arts since she was born, yet her dream was to attend Hogwarts. Her grandparents had gone there, along with her aunts and uncles. She wanted to learn how to use magic, rather than limp along with basic charms and potions.

She wanted to be better than her mother, a woman who was practically a squib.

"Want to go say hi to Mom?" her dad asked, ruffling Alice's hair. He nodded at the older man—Dymphna's publicity manager—and he escorted his daughter through the crowd.

Security recognized Edmund Holmes instantly—he was a celebrity in his own right—and allowed them to proceed forward. Alice craned her neck, looking at all of the glittery costumes and the extravagant people. A few of them waved at her, grinning at the small child and marveling at her British accent. Americans always did that.

She was merely eleven years old. In a few months, she would be twelve—nearly a teenager, she loved to proclaim.

"Mum!" Alice shouted, spotting the beautiful woman standing in the back. A man with pointed cheekbones waved at Alice, before walking over to his own wife and child.

"Alice, darling!" Dymphna cooed, picking up her child gracefully. Dympha appeared to be a more sophisticated version of Alice, her dark black hair placed into a cascading braid. Bits of veela hair were braided into it as well.

It made her appear only more beautiful and astonishing to the eye—a trick she had learned at school.

"I see your magic isn't stopping," Dymphna chuckled, carrying Alice into the dressing room. Vaguely, she was aware of Edmund chatting with another cast member.

Alice grinned. "Did you like it, Mum?"

She nodded eagerly, setting Alice down on the makeup chair. She spun Alice around, before picking up a brush. It had been specially made for her at Diagon Alley, designed to make the makeup effortlessly flawless.

"How would you like to look like a princess, darling?" Alice's mother offered, dusting Alice's face with the brush.

Alice complied, and gazed at the mirror in fascination. Her hair seemed to do itself, and her eyes became more prominent than before. Her mother paused for a moment, pulling out a thin wand, and she twirled it around Alice. In an instant, her plain dress had been transformed into a beautiful emerald ball gown.

"I look so pretty," Alice laughed, tugging at her hair. "Even if you cheated."

Dymphna winked at her. "It's not cheating, Alice darling. We have to use what we have to get ahead. It's how we survive in this world."

Alice nodded, touching her cheek tenderly. The makeup didn't smudge, and to her touch, it simply felt like her own skin.

"I know," Alice murmured. Her parents had gotten her a few minor roles in jobs. Usually, it was simply out of convenience for the director—they didn't need to worry about her crying. She was the daughter of theater legends, fully capable of doing anything and everything.

It was in her blood.

"Now, how about we go home and we play some Exploding Snap, hmm? We can team up against your father again, if you'd like," Dymphna offered, laughing a bit at the mental image. It hadn't gone all too well last time they played with Edmund.

Alice, however, cackled and nodded eagerly. "Wicked! Let's do it!"

She rather enjoyed magic.

* * *

Dymphna waved her wand at the pots, causing them to quickly clean themselves. She grinned, pulling out some ingredients for cooking.

Edmund frowned a bit, walking into the kitchen. They had established a sort of home in the apartment, located in one of the tallest buildings in Brooklyn. Neither Edmund nor Dymphna was ready to make the move official-so far, it had all been intangible, merely a stay for the show.

"Honestly, every time you use magic on those, they get worse!"

His wife laughed a bit, winking down at Alice. "You're joking! I graduated top of my class at W.A.D.A. I _think_ I can do some simple cleaning charms."

Alice's father gave in, rolling his eyes. He grumpily sat at the counter, watching as the dishes became progressively dirtier and dirtier. Alice laughed, watching with delight.

"You're _so_ great at charms, Mum," Alice teased. "Almost as good as you are at cooking."

Dymphna rolled her eyes, and the pans dropped with a clatter. Edmund muttered a few choice words under his breath, before manually cleaning all of the dishes. He waved a finger at his wife and grabbed the ingredients, throwing them all together in the pan.

"Dad's better at charms," Alice added, attempting to get a rise out of her mother.

Dymphna pouted slightly. "That's rather rude—your father isn't even magical!"

"You say that like it's a bad thing…" Edmund protested, setting the concoction to simmer. It smelled delicious, yet Alice wasn't able to identify what it was. It reminded her of an Indian restaurant, filled with rich and new scents.

Her mother stalked over to the fax machine, a necessity at their house. It had taken her a while at first to figure out how to use it, but after that initial period, all sorts of documents were being sent off to talent agents.

"Eddie!" Dymphna squealed. "They've sent a script for you!"

Edmund did a double take, and Alice nodded, watching the food for him. He dashed over to the fax machine, looking over the script. His eyes grew wider and wider, and they practically jumped out of his skull.

"I got the part, as well!" Edmund said, pumping his fist into the air. "Looks like we'll be heading out to Los Angeles!"

Dymphna grinned, embracing her husband. Alice, for her part, frowned a bit. She didn't mind the States too much, yet she continued to dream of the misty halls of Hogwarts. And to be able to attend, she had to be in Britain.

She took a deep breath, clearing her throat slightly. "Mum!"

Dymphna pecked Edmund on the cheek, who was engrossed with the script he was reading over. She walked back over to Alice, putting an arm around her child comfortingly.

"What's the matter, darling?" she asked. "Aren't you excited for your father? This could make his career—he could get an Oscar!"

"Yes, but…"

"But?" Dymphna raised an eyebrow. She glanced over at the food, seeing that it was largely fine—or at least, it was fine to her own eye. She shrugged, returning her gaze to Alice.

"I want to go back to England," Alice pouted. "I miss home—everyone here talks silly."

Dymphna paused, her eyes darting over towards Edmund. They had built their entire lives around theater, from the moment they met while working for the BBC. Edmund had changed his name for his career—she had been fortunate enough to already have a strange and memorable one.

"We can't go back to England," Dymphna said, pinching Alice's cheek playfully. "There are lots of lovely people here in America—and you'll be heading off to W.A.D.A. soon enough as well."

Alice nodded a bit, biting her lip softly. "What if I…what if I don't want to go to W.A.D.A., Mum?"

"Oh!" Dymphna exclaims, her face widening greatly. "Well, I suppose you could attend the Salem Witch Institute—I haven't heard terribly great things about them, though…"

Alice shook her head. "I want to go to Hogwarts, Mum. You always told me that we have to use everything we have to get ahead in life—I want to be the best witch there ever was, and I can't do that at squib school!"

Her mother frowned, her normally soft features going quite stern. "W.A.D.A. is a very difficult school to get into—it isn't _squib school._ They're expecting you to attend, Alice."

"But I want to go to Hogwarts!" Alice frowned. "My letter from them is supposed to be here today! Grandmum told me!"

 _She just doesn't want me to be better than her…_ Alice frowned deeper, looking at her mother pleadingly. Dymphna was about to respond, ready to fight with her daughter, when an owl appeared, tapping at the window.

"I'll get the bird," Alice's father sighed, rolling his eyes a bit. He tore himself away from his script and opened the window, allowing a tawny owl to sore inside. It clutched a letter firmly in its talons.

It landed in front of Alice, holding out its leg. She stared at it, eyes wide, and she held out her hand. The owl dropped the letter and flew back out of the window, and quickly vanished from sight.

The letter, addressed to her, was written in green ink:

 _Ms. Alice C. Holmes_

 _The First Floor Bedroom_

 _Apartment 0314_

 _Rodya-Svidrigailov Apartments_

 _Brooklyn_

 _New York, New York_

 _The United States of America_

"It's my letter!" Alice exclaimed. Her parents were exchanging glances, yet the eleven year old paid no mind. She ripped open the letter delicately, hoping to preserve it for years to come.

Her eyes greedily scanned the page, eating up each and every word. She had been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, under Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. She squirmed—her grandparents had told her stories about Dumbledore, the most powerful wizard who ever lived.

She was being accepted as a first year, with her owl being awaited to confirm her attendance.

"Mum!" Alice exclaimed, shoving the letter towards her. "Please tell me I can go!"

Her mother sighed a bit, biting her lip—a habit Alice had picked up from her.

"I don't see why not," Edmund said tentatively, staring at his wife. "She can always transfer to W.A.D.A. if she would prefer that after a year."

Dymphna nodded. "Fine—but be careful, darling. I wouldn't want you to get hurt."

Alice beamed up at her parents, schooling her features into a brave mask. She had heard rumors about the dangers of Hogwarts, with students being sent out into the Forbidden forest for detention and the like.

But still, it was safe—it had to be safe.

It was Hogwarts.

"I'll be fine," Alice grinned. "Now, when can we go get my supplies? It says I'll be needing a wand…"


	2. Chapter 2

"You know, the Salem Witch Institute isn't even a real school," Alice blurted, swinging her legs back and forth.

Despite having received her letter and confirmed her spot at Hogwarts already, her parents had not yet taken her to receive her supplies. Instead, they were proceeding with business as usual—Edmund had been cast for a guest star role in a horror television program.

And as usual, the child actor hired for the job had fled on the spot. Alice was quickly substituted in, adding yet another entry to her growing list of acting jobs.

 _At least I don't cheat_ , Alice gloated to herself.

Her mother looked surprise. "It isn't a school? Where do the American witches and wizards go, then?"

Alice shrugged a bit, wrinkling her nose as her mother applied fake blood all over her. The make-up artists could never fathom how Dymphna could achieve such levels of perfection with every stroke, claiming that it had to have been magic.

"I don't know…" Alice frowned a bit. "But it's some sort of organization—for the pro women women."

Dymphna chuckled slightly, and nodded. "I see, dear. Now…tilt your head slightly for me, hmm?"

She complied, staring at her mother as she did so. Her mother quickly brushed at Alice's cheek with her brush, and instantly, Alice's veins seemed to be eerily prominent. Dabbing next at her eyes, Alice was completely transformed—she was ready to be the possessed girl in this show.

"Lovely," Dymphna smiled. "Now, do you remember your lines?"

Alice nodded. "They're not very hard—I bet I could come up with better lines, it'd be way scarier."

Dymphna chuckled. "I'm sure that you could—I'll let them know that you're ready, hmm?"

Dymphna wandered off, her hair continuing to shimmer in the light. She had added only more and more strands of veela hair to it, loving the way that heads turned as she walked pass. Alice craned her neck, attempting to take in all of the set.

"Alice Holmes, on set now!" a cranky intern, carrying a cup of coffee, barked. She grabbed Alice by the wrist, fretting over her costume a bit as she did so.

"I'm not a child!" Alice snapped, pulling her hand out of the intern's grip. She glared into the intern's heavily made up eyes, the eyelashes practically weighed down by mascara.

The intern huffed, only to have her eyelashes fall off in a moment—Alice giggled a bit, looking off to the side.

Blushing a bit, the intern quickly walked Alice over to her position on set, before dashing towards the background. It was social suicide for her to be seen without makeup.

Grinning towards the camera, Alice saw a few looks of terror on the crewmembers' faces. Her mother had done too well of a job. She appeared to be the perfect muggle depiction of a vampire—fangs, blood, and gore galore.

"Is this the part where I kill people?" Alice asked innocently. It only caused everyone else to shudder—there was a reason that eleven year olds were a staple in horror works.

No child should be that calm with murder.

The director nodded, smiling shakily. "Yep! Alright, I think we're ready?"

The rest of the cast had assembled themselves—they were being paid to drape themselves all over the floor, acting as the victims of Alice's character. Alice herself sat down in front of a small table, covered with various chipped pieces of china and other such finery.

It was a beautiful little tea party.

" _Supernormal,_ episode twenty, scene two, take one!" a young girl with a raspy voice called out, and Alice could hear something snap.

Beaming up at the camera, Alice delivered her lines as best as she could. She strained slightly on some of them, yet it was impossible for her to get them wrong—it was impossible for this entire scene to be frightening.

And as of such, it only took them ten takes to be satisfied with it, capturing the scene from every angle in order to create a better cinematic effect. Behind the cameras, Alice could see her mother beaming at her, filled with motherly pride.

 _She really doesn't want me to go to Hogwarts…_ Alice frowned slightly, accidentally changing the mood of the scene.

"Let's do that last bit again!" the director called out, a hint of annoyance creeping into his voice. "Don't look so grumpy, kid! Smile!"

Alice complied, pushing a smile onto her face. Yet she couldn't change her true emotions—she hated upsetting her mother.

* * *

It had been another quiet night on the set—Alice stared anxiously at the calendar, watching July bleed into August. With each day that passed, she grew more and more nervous, her mind consumed with thoughts of going to Hogwarts.

 _What if they run out of wands before Mum and Dad take me to get one?_

"Mum!" Alice called out, squirming a bit in her seat. She spun it around, looking around the cramped trailer. "Muuuuuum!"

Dymphna swore a bit, picking her finger accidentally with a needle. "Alice! I'm right here!"

Alice chuckled nervously, looking at the stern expression of her mother. "Can we get me my Hogwarts supplies already, Mum?"

Throwing down her sewing supplies, Dymphna sighed and looked at her daughter. For a moment, her mind drifted back to her own childhood—a childhood in which she had never even seen her Hogwarts letter. Yet it hadn't mattered.

She had been destined for W.A.D.A.—and she already knew it.

"I've told you already, Alice," Dymphna frowned. "Your father has just one more day of filming, and then we have a joint interview about his new film—the talk about it is nonstop, darling."

Alice huffed, picking at her fingers. The skin next to her left index finger split, and she began to pull at it—a painful, yet additive task. She avoided her mother's gaze, content to portray misery perfectly.

If she was lucky, she would guilt trip her mother into taking her to Hogwarts early.

"As soon as we're out of the conference, we're going to go home," Dymphna offered, yet her voice was weary. "Your grandmum has pulled some strings to get a portkey set up—quick passage to Diagon."

She perked up slightly. Her grandmother was an interesting character—yet far more skilled at magic than her mother. When Alice was little, she would tell her stories all about Hogwarts, and the magic she learned there.

"Okay," Alice grinned. "Will granddad be there as well?"

Dymphna shrugged slightly. "Oh, he might be lobbying in the Ministry…You know how busy he's been since the divorce."

"No, I don't," Alice pouted, flopping onto the floor of the trailer. She pretended it didn't hurt. "I haven't seen him in forever!"

"You saw him last Christmas," Dymphna chuckled, biting her lip only slightly. "That's hardly forever."

The pouting child on the floor hardly cared—she simply saw an opening. "I'm eleven. That was a year ago—"

"—Not even a full year ago—"

"—And for me, that is about a tenth of my life. I'd say that's forever."

Alice rolled herself up to her feet, grinning a bit as she crossed her arms at her mother. Dymphna merely rolled her eyes, before reaching into her pocket. "I was waiting to give you this later, but I suppose, I could give it to you now."

Her mother tossed her something lithe—a hairpin. It was emerald green, with a small snake entwining itself around it.

"What is it?" Alice frowned, staring down at it. "What's it do?"

"Nothing," Dymphna chuckled. "My mother gave it to me when I first went to W.A.D.A.—it's been passed down through the generations."

"You're a terrible liar, Mum," Alice sighed. She shoved the hairpin into her pocket, attempting to cast a look of shame at her mother. It only elicited laughter from her, unfortunately, adverse to Alice's goals.

"I know," Dymphna grinned. "I pinched it a bit back—I'll let you figure out what it does, hmm?"

* * *

Alice rubbed her hands together, desperately trying to get some sort of feeling back in them. Her father's interview had gone splendidly, which was hardly to anyone's surprise. And true to her mother's word, they had proceeded to leave for London directly afterwards.

No one had told her, however, that the portkey would be waiting for them in the middle of the woods. They had spent an hour already, trudging their way through the darkness, in search of a half eaten can of spam—a perfectly horrid way to spend the evening.

Even the promise of returning home couldn't make Alice feel excited.

"It'll be a little bit ahead," Dymphna encouraged, her breath appearing as mist in front of her.

Alice and Edmund each groaned a bit, before nodding. The chill was getting to all of them, and their hands felt more like ice than a part of their own body. Yet luckily, true to Dymphna's word, they reached the clearing the portkey was in.

Now it was all a matter of finding it in the dark.

"What is it again, love?" Edmund asked, laughing a bit nervously. "I hope it isn't a rock or a twig—loads of those here."

Dymphna sighed a bit, gritting her teeth. "Not helping, Eddie!"

"It was a can of spam," Alice offered, wrinkling her nose. "Couldn't they make portkeys out of something nicer?"

"People would pick them up otherwise!" Dymphna huffed, pulling out her wand. Her voice sounded snappy and mocking, yet evidently, she managed to cast the spell correctly. " _Lumos!"_

A light appeared on the tip of her wand, illuminating the ground around them. It was feeble, yet grew stronger as time went on. A piece of metal reflected back in the light—Dymphna rushed over to it, revealing the can of spam.

"Right!" Dymphna grinned. "Now, everyone grab on—it'll be leaving in any minute, I expect."

"Aren't the times fixed?" Alice muttered, yet she complied with her mother's order, grabbing onto the can of spam.

Dymphna hissed at her daughter to hush, frantically whispering, _"Nox!"_ She grabbed onto the portkey, just in time to force her husband to latch onto it.

Alice felt herself being thrown, and she screeched a bit in terror. The ground jerked away and all around her, colors were being distorted. They shifted and merged, turning into an artist's nightmare. Eventually, the motion began to slow down, and her mother calmly let go of the portkey.

Her father, despite being a muggle, also handled it rather calmly. Alice gritted her teeth and let go, feeling her supper leave her stomach quickly. The ground zoomed in closer and closer to her, and she screamed as she crashed against it. Her cheek rubbed into the ground, the skin giving way and blood spilling out.

"Alice!" Dymphna laughed a bit. "You haven't used a portkey before, have you, love?"

Alice gritted her teeth, only wincing slightly from the pain. "Gee, what gave you that impression, Mum?"

Struggling a bit, Alice managed to pick herself up from the ground. She threw a glance over at her father, satisfied that he had turned a pale shade of green. He wasn't as skilled at travel as she had believed.

Dymphna extended a hand, yet Alice shook her head—she didn't need any help.

"I'm fine," Alice insisted, rubbing her cheek a bit, only to pull her hand away with a fine coating of blood.

Her mother sighed. "Stubborn—come on, your grandparents are waiting inside."

Nodding a bit, Alice followed her parents towards the small cottage. It was in a country area, not too far from London. Her own house was in the city, yet the privacy of her grandparents' house was ideal for magical travel destinations.

Dymphna opened up the door, ushering Alice inside.

"Oh, dear!" a frail voice sounded out, as Alice's grandmother shuffled over. She pulled out her wand and pointed it at Alice's cheek. " _Episkey!"_

"Ouch!" Alice exclaimed, throwing her hand up towards her cheek. It was bubbling almost, as the skin regenerated quickly. By the time she touched it, the wound was completely gone—it was as if it had never happened.

"Sorry, dear," her grandmother frowned, ushering Alice over to the sofa. "It's best to heal those as soon as you can—get it over with. Healing charms aren't fun to draw out."

Alice nodded, touching her cheek gingerly still. Her grandmother, wearing a large number of amulets and rings, bustled around the cottage. She could hear her father entering, the bits of their luggage banging against the door as he entered.

"Oh, sorry, Amaryllis!" Edmund apologized, blushing slightly. "Didn't see the door there…It jumped out at me."

Her grandmother nodded sympathetically. "It's been known to do that—I'll get the luggage dear, you go and rest."

She flicked her wand wordlessly at the bags, and they neatly went up the stairs. They vanished from sight, yet Alice could tell they had all been placed in her mother's childhood bedroom in a neat little pile. She grinned, staring at her grandmother—she was her idol.

She wanted to be like her—gifted, magical, and powerful. It seemed so much more _worthy_ than acting to Alice.

"I suppose we'll be getting you your own wand tomorrow, hmm?" Amaryllis chuckled, ruffling her granddaughter's hair. "Your mother is having me come along—she doesn't know the requirements for Hogwarts that well, where to get things and whatnot."

Alice nodded. It made sense—her mother never needed to bother with traditional educational supplies. She had a different list of worries.

"And I was thinking," her grandmother began, "you can take the cat with you—or you can get a new one, if you'd prefer."

"But won't you be lonely?" Alice frowned, though she was growing more and more giddy on the inside.

Her grandmother chuckled. "Won't you, away in that castle all by yourself?"


	3. Chapter 3

"Diagon Alley!" Alice commanded, dropping the powder into the flames licking away at her feet. Her chest felt tight and she tensed each muscle, her brain refusing to accept the fact that the fire was completely harmless.

She was standing in fire—logically, it shouldn't have been painless. Yet instead, the emerald flames only felt weirdly chilly, though a vibration began to spread throughout them.

In a split second, Alice could clearly see her grandmother's living room—in the next, she was staring at bricks as they rapidly flew by her. She strained her eyes, willing them to remain open and comprehend everything she saw. A few parlor rooms whizzed by, accompanied by the occasional cat and screaming couple. Blinking, she watched the blurs slow down.

And then, in another fraction of a second, it stopped. With a clatter, Alice was thrown forward, propelled out of the fireplace. Strong hands grabbed her, preventing another travel related injury.

"Sorry, dear," Amaryllis apologized, helping Alice up to her feet. She brushed her hands off on her now soot-stained cloak, grinning at her granddaughter with a twinkle in her eye.

"'M fine…" Alice mumbled, cracking her wrists slightly. She felt stiff and sore, yet it didn't stop her from gazing around the room in wonder. All sorts of people were gathered around the bar, drinking fiery liquids and chattering over a paper with moving pictures.

 _The Leaky Cauldron!_ Beaming, she spun around, attempting to take everything else in. Quidditch posters were plastered onto the walls, with the smaller ones detailing criminals wanted by the Ministry. One of them showed a rather attractive young boy, smiling at the camera.

"Coming, Alice?" Dymphna asked, pulling her daughter's attention away from the poster.

Nodding, Alice sprinted towards the exit, her blue dress picking up slightly from the rush of the wind. The poster out of mind, her attention was gripped by the bricks that were receding, and her grandmother was withdrawing her hand from them.

"Stay close to us, Alice," Edmund said sternly, grabbing his daughter's hand. "We wouldn't want you getting lost, hmm?"

The bricks were completely to each side, creating a large archway through which they could pass. On the other side, in stark contrast to the dinky trashcan and accompanying litter, was a hobbling street, filled with people dressed in all sorts of hues.

" _Get your cauldrons here, half off!"_

" _Rate and exotic wands, better than Ollivander's!"_

" _One day only, Lockhart book singing!"_

Alice squinted slightly, as if it would cut out the noise from the storeowners, attempting to add more and more sensory overload to everyone's minds. At the end of the street, she could see a magnificent marble building, lopsided yet somehow standing perfectly.

It only took her a moment to identify it as Gringotts, the fabled wizarding bank.

"Do you not have any funds with you?" Alice questioned, looking at her grandmother. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a look of vexation creep up on her mother's face, yet she didn't care.

Amaryllis chuckled. "Your mother and father don't have any wizarding currency with them, I'm afraid—all muggle lot. Playing cards or something."

"Credit cards," Dymphna muttered under her breath. "Playing cards are rather different, Mum."

"I don't care in the slightest," Amaryllis teased, with a surprisingly youthful tone of mischievousness.

Alice's mother groaned, and Edmund reached out, taking her hand for support. The four of them made their way through the crowd, ignoring the advertisements for better hair potions and owls that could speak fluent English during each lunar eclipse.

After a bit of pushing and shoving, they found themselves on the steps outside of Gringotts. Alice stood up on her toes, attempting to read the engraving on the doors.

"You don't want to mess with Gringotts," Dymphna said, noticing her daughter's gaze as she opened the door and ushered the group inside. "That's the gist of it."

Her sneakers squeaked against the polished floor, and she blushed slightly, as a few goblins turned their heads to regard her. Her grandmother took no notice, marching confidently up to the scariest looking goblin of the lot. He peered down at the group, his eyes seemingly staring into Alice's soul.

She shivered. _No wonder Gringotts is hardly ever broken into—the workers are horrifying._

As if sensing her thought, the goblin frowned cruelly, setting down a beautiful fountain pen. "May I help you?"

"Dymphna Blackstone," her mother giggled a bit. "I'm here to retrieve some funds from my vault."

The goblin nodded, not at all taken aback by the name. Dymphna pouted a bit, hoping that she would have been recognized. Her performances used to be mostly done for wizarding audiences, before Alice had been born—back then, people would have swarmed her for an autograph.

Or at least, that was what Dymphna enjoyed to believe.

"Vault number?" the goblin requested, glancing back up from an extensive list of records, all done by hand on parchment.

"0314," Dymphna said, smiling feebly. "Surely you're familiar with me, no…?"

The goblin shook his head, getting up from his tall chair. "I assume that you have your key with you, Miss Blackstone."

Alice's mother nodded, reaching into her tiny purse. It was a soft shade of grey, yet it had a shimmering quality to it. The most curious aspect of it, however, was the illegal infinite extension charm placed on it.

"Got it!" Dymphna cheered, pulling out the tiny key. It was made with silver, with a B—for Blackstone—etched into it.

The goblin nodded, accepting the key from Dymphna. "Excellent. Follow me, please, Mrs. Blackstone and company."

* * *

They whizzed through the tunnels, passing numerous vaults. Every now and then, Alice was able to see another person, perhaps even a family, attending to their own vaults.

"Right, here we are," Dymphna grinned. "Remember when you first took me to Gringotts, Mum?"

Her grandmother shuddered a bit at the unpleasant memory. As soon as the cart came to a halt, she pushed herself up and went out of the cart, assisting the goblin with the lamp and the key. After a bit of fumbling around with it, he inserted the key into the lock, opening up the vault.

It was filled with galleons, as well as autographed gifts and portraits—partially a family fortune, but also some of the rewards of Alice's mother's acting success.

"And you thought I was a B-list actress," Dymphna scoffed, getting out of the cart as well.

Alice blushed, stammering a bit. "I never said that! I never would have!"

Dymphna rolled her eyes, holding out her purse. Amaryllis scowled slightly, before scooping up a good few handfuls of galleons, and throwing them inside the bag. They clinked against each other as they were tossed, the pealing noise filled with merriment.

"That'll be all," Amaryllis said confidently, retrieving the key from the goblin. She flopped back into the cart, ruffling Alice's hair a bit.

The goblin nodded, sealing the vault off again in an orderly fashion. The treasures of the Blackstone family vault were sealed away, once again cast into darkness. Alice bit her lip slightly, wishing she could have copied the image into memory.

It wasn't that she was necessarily snotty and greedy—rather, it was a symbol of the success of her family. It was proof that they were talented and important, more than a pretty face on the television set.

"We can go get you your wand, then," Dymphna commented, as the goblin returned to the cart, setting it back into motion.

"Because we desperately need her able to do magic," Edmund sighed, leaning back a bit. His face was a delicately shade of green, and his hand was trembling as he clenched the side of the cart.

"You're just jealous you're a muggle," Alice teased, sticking her tongue out. "You aren't as special as we are."

Edmund rolled his eyes. "I'm perfectly special."

"Edmund Smith," Dymphna said, jumping in on the teasing with a cackle. "Are you sure the only reason Americans like you is because you remind them of the detective, hmm?"

"Someone else in the guild had that name!" Edmund groaned. The subject was a bit of a sore spot. "I had to change it!"

Dymphna kissed his cheek, lurching forward with the cart as it came to a halt. The doors leading back into the main hall of Gringotts stood to their left, and the goblin looked at them expectantly, as if they stood between him and a long awaited break.

"Thank you," Amaryllis nodded, smiling sweetly at the goblin. "That was an efficient trip."

The family walked back through the doors, with Dymphna and Amaryllis heading determinedly towards the exit. Edmund shuffled after them, while Alice fell a bit distracted, seeing a girl with impossibly pale skin and white hair. She tossed her hair over her shoulder, and as her head turned, crystal blue eyes were revealed.

She couldn't have been more than a year older than Alice, yet instantly she was in awe of her.

The girl, catching her eye, chuckled a bit and waved, though her nose was wrinkled.

"Alice!" Edmund shouted. "Hurry up, love!"

"Coming!" Alice said, rushing down the hall, to the snickering of the mysterious girl with blonde hair.

* * *

As promised, the first stop was at Ollivander's, a wand shop. All of the best witches and wizards would procure their wands here, unless they felt like risking it with street traders.

"It's a bit of a private thing," Dymphna explained to Edmund in a hushed voice. "We'll wait outside—give her some space and we'll come in once she's chosen something."

Edmund, a bit taken aback, nodded. Flabbergasted and out of his element, it was far easier for him to pretend all of this was normal, and to simply take the words of his wife and his mother-in-law as gospel.

"Go on in, love," Alice's grandmother encouraged, nudging her gently towards the shop. "It's always an experience, getting your first wand—you'll want to treasure this."

Alice nodded, beginning to feel a sinking sensation in her stomach. _What if none of the wands choose me?_ Biting her lip, she forced herself to open the door, practically flinching at the sound of the tinkling bell.

Unfortunately, she wasn't the only customer in the shop—a girl with ratty brown hair and obtuse glasses was at the counter, holding a short wand made of vine.

"Right, so this is my wand," the girl said, an aura of amusement lacing her voice. "Excellent."

She dropped a few coins onto the counter, swishing the wand around in the air. Alice gulped a bit, realizing that the girl hadn't noticed she was there.

Yet Mr. Ollivander had.

"Ah, yes!" the old man grinned, revealing a few missing teeth. "I'll be right with you, Miss Nicholas has just finished up her purchase."

"Thanks," the girl said a bit dryly, turning around and leaving the shop. She stared a bit at Alice before she left, however, her gaze penetrating and inquisitive.

A sense of relief filled Alice as soon as the girl had left.

"I…I need a wand," Alice stated, clearing her voice a bit to sound confident. "I'm going to be a Hogwarts first year, and I'll need the best."

Mr. Ollivander nodded, snapping his fingers together. A tape measure rose into the air from the desk and flew around Alice, taking all sorts of nonsense measurements. When it brushed by her nose, she felt a sneeze coming on, and she tensed up, hoping to avoid embarrassing herself.

After all, you only get to purchase your first wand once.

"Lovely," Mr. Ollivander murmured. "Alice Blackstone, was it?"

"Holmes," Alice said, shaking her head. "I got my father's last name."

"I see," Mr. Ollivander muttered, heading over to his shelves. "Your mother was an odd case—dogwood, oddly firm, eleven inches, and with phoenix feather core."

"Sounds like her," Alice joked, swaying a bit nervously on her feet. "She's a bit batty."

Mr. Ollivander chuckled, returning with a plain blue box, long and thin. He opened it up, revealing a rather pale wand—it was made of ebony.

"Ebony, ten and a quarter inches, with unicorn hair," Mr. Ollivander announced. "Give it a wave, Miss Holmes."

Alice bit her lip a bit, plucking the wand up from the box. It felt oddly simple in her hands, and she waved it around randomly, without any sort of aim. Almost in an instant, Mr. Ollivander's hair vanished with a blast.

He clicked his tongue, as if this happened on a day to day basis. "Hmm…Perhaps this?"

Setting down another box, he opened it up to reveal a slightly more colored wand. It was made of acacia wood, and according to his explanation, the core consisted of a dragon heartstring.

"I'll just…give it a go then," Alice stammered, picking it up from its case. No sooner had she touched it did the lighting in the shop give out, casting the pair into darkness.

Mr. Ollivander laughed. "I usually find myself correct with the third try—perhaps a wand of ebony, hmm?"

It wasn't a plain wand, yet the wood was far darker than the previous wands. The handle had a swirl wrapping around it, almost looking like a snake had been carved into the wood. It was everything Alice had ever dreamed of a wand looking like.

"What's the core?" Alice blurted, picking it up delicately.

"Dragon heartstring," Mr. Ollivander explained. "Ten and three quarter inches of length, and it seems to be slightly unyielding."

Alice nodded, flicking it lightly in the air. Rather than something amazing occurring, the result was rather simple. And yet, it was obvious—this wand had chosen her.

The lights had come back on.

"It seems we have a match," Mr. Ollivander murmured, taking the wand back from Alice. He placed it inside of the box, folding a protective layer of tissue over it, and then he placed the lid back on top.

"I'll go tell my mum that I can pay now," Alice said, walking towards the door and pulling it open.

Dymphna walked in almost instantly, her purse at the ready. She pulled out a handful of galleons and put them down. "Keep the change—for the great work you do."

Mr. Ollivander chuckled, yet he obliged and kept the extra coins. "Your daughter is destined for great things, Mrs. Blackstone."

"I know," Dymphna laughed. "She is mine, after all."

Mr. Ollivander shook his head, peering at Alice as if she was some sort of horrifying curiosity.

"Her destiny is far greater than you could ever imagine—whether or not she performs great horrors, we shall have to see."


	4. Chapter 4

Alice pushed her way through the crowd, despite the scolding of her mother to wait her turn. Yet instead of being able to see much, all she could see was a sea of colorful cloaks, continuing to obscure her view.

"Mum, tell them who you are," Alice whined. "Then they'll let us through and I can get my books!"

Dymphna glared at her daughter. The veela qualities about her mother only served to make her more intimidating, and Alice quieted instantly. She didn't dare get into a confrontation, or to make a scene—despite popular belief, there _was_ such a thing as bad publicity.

"You'll just have to wait, Alice," Dymphna warned. Standing a great deal taller than her daughter, she could already see the cause of the holdup—a gorgeous looking man with delicate blonde curls was speaking to the crowd.

Dymphna's eyes widened upon noticing who was next to him. "That's Harry Potter, Alice!"

"Harry Potter?" Alice whispered back, her eyes widening in an identical fashion to her mother's. Her heart skipped a beat—she would have had to be a fool to not know about Harry Potter.

He was famous—just a year older than her, and already, he had defeated the greatest wizard to ever live. She trembled slightly with jealousy and excitement, hopping up and down to try to see over the crowd and spot the bespectacled boy.

"Alice, dear," Edmund warned, pressing a hand firmly on his daughter's shoulders. "You shouldn't gawk at him—he's a person, just like you and me."

"People gawk at you," Alice interjected. "All the girls fancy you, Dad."

"That's not my point," Edmund frowned.

Dymphna craned her neck, ignoring the advice of her husband. Amaryllis couldn't have cared less, and she shoved her way to the front, leaving her family in the dust. Groaning a bit, Edmund followed her and was quickly joined by Dymphna.

She was alone now. Alice grinned a bit, peering up the stairs to her left. _There!_ Snickering a bit, she dashed up them, knocking over mountains of books in her carelessness. From this height, she would be able to watch the entire thing—no adults would be able to stop her either.

Skidding to a halt, she leaned over the railing, finally getting a good glimpse at the famed Harry Potter. He was covered in soot, blinking awkwardly at the camera. _He looks boring,_ Alice sighed.

"Hey, get out of my way, girl!" a voice behind her snarled.

"You move over!" Alice retorted, not even bothering to look around. Her stomach was squished against the iron bar, and she squinted her eyes, attempting to somehow better hear the conversation going on down below.

Something bashed against her, and she found herself falling forward. Kicking her legs in terror, she made contact with something squishy. No one below gasped as she started to fall. Biting back a scream, Alice grabbed onto one of the iron poles of the railing, scrambling with her legs to find some sort of purchase.

"That was my bloody nose, you filthy mudblood!" the voice from before sneered, tinted with anger and agony.

 _Good! You deserve it, you git._ Managing to find a foothold, Alice carefully reached the safety of the stairs once again. She threw a glance back down at the crowd—they were still oblivious. _Typical._

"I'm not a mudblood," Alice grumbled, turning around to face her adversary.

He was thin and pale, towheaded as well. A bit of blood dripped down his face, his blue eyes glaring at her with insulted rage. He wore a pair of school robes with the insignia of a serpent.

"Prove it, then," the boy frowned. "I'm Draco Malfoy—I think I know the proper sort when I see them."

"Alice Holmes," she spat, clenching her fists slightly. "I'll hex you if you don't believe me, Meowfoy."

"It's _Malfoy_ ," Draco glared. "You're just common rubbish, aren't you?"

"I'm from the Blackstone family," Alice growled.

His eyes widened for a split second, and then a smile spread across his face. "You're pureblood, then, Alice?"

Her eyes flickered down towards her father, who was standing towards the front of the crowd with a look of wonder on his face. Her mother wrapped an arm around him, whispering hushed explanations of all of the strange sights he was bearing witness to.

"Of course I'm pureblood," Alice lied confidently. "Only an idiot would have to ask that."

Draco extended a hand to her, the smile not leaving his face. "You're a first year, aren't you, Alice?"

Alice nodded, clasping his hand. She shook it as tightly as she could, attempting to look fierce and frightening. It was the only way she could feel calm.

"What house do you expect you'll get, then?" he inquired.

She paused. "I dunno, which house is the best?"

"Slytherin, of course," Draco laughed. He let go of Alice's hand, pointing to the Slytherin crest on his cloak with pride.

"That one, then," Alice smirked. "That's the house for me."

"I'll be seeing you on the train, then," Draco asserted confidently. "And I expect that I'll see you in the dungeons."

He knocked a pile of books over carelessly, jumping down the steps three at a time. Turning around at the very last step, he winked at Alice and vanished into the crowd that was beginning to form a queue.

Alice blinked a bit, feeling her heart start up again.

 _Hopefully no one finds out about Dad…_ She grimaced a bit, imagining her future as the greatest witch to ever live be ripped away, stolen from her, all because her mother had fallen for a muggle.

* * *

Looking around the room filled with various animals, Alice couldn't help but smile. There were bats and owls, as well as cats and dogs and toads. Unfortunately, the rules at Hogwarts were a bit strict.

She couldn't have more than one pet.

"Do they really enforce the rules about bets?" Alice whined, staring at a bat wistfully. "I could tell them she really is an owl, and ask them if they need their eyes checked."

Amaryllis chuckled a bit, walking over towards the cats. "Back in my day, a boy tried to bring a bat—one of the professors got rid of it, thought it was a pest."

She groaned, allowing herself to be led towards the cats. She didn't want an owl—they seemed too practical, almost. It was boring and predictable.

"Get a cat, love," Dymphna encouraged. "We'll send you letters all the same with our own owl—you can use him to return them."

"My owl, you mean," Amaryllis corrected harshly.

"Yes, mother," Dymphna said, rolling her eyes. "Henry is a fine owl—he saw me through school."

Alice wrinkled her nose slightly. She hated names that were meant for people, when it came to naming animals.

A few feet away from the family was a girl, her hair dyed a furious shade of ginger, who was tickling a small little kitten. She laughed a bit as it escaped from her grasp, padding over towards Alice.

"I think Elrond likes you," the girl said, smiling kindly.

"Elrond?" Alice said, raising an eyebrow. "Isn't that from…?"

" _Lord of the Rings_ , yes," the girl interrupted. "My cat, Legolas, had kittens a week or so ago. I know the owner's daughter, so the litter is being sold."

"You're some sort of fangirl," Alice declared. Elrond meowed up at her, rubbing against her knee. The cat was black with a large white spot on a single paw, an odd yet endearing appearance.

The girl—who revealed her name was Gabrielle—laughed. "I suppose you could say that—I think Elrond would be a good pet for you. You're a first year, right?"

Alice nodded, and Elrond jumped into her arms. She rose to her feet, staring down the girl. "I'm Alice—Alice Holmes."

"Nice to meet you," Gabrielle grinned. "Maybe a Cheshire cat would be best for you, eh, Alice?"

Alice blinked at her in confusion.

Gabrielle sighed. "Sometimes I forget that book isn't as popular as it should be…"

Dymphna grinned a bit. "She was named after that Alice, actually—she just hates being compared to her."

"Why?" Gabrielle questioned. "I think it's a fitting name—you'll be in Ravenclaw, I expect. That's the best house—everyone there is curious."

For a moment, Alice felt torn. She had already pledged her loyalty to one house—to Slytherin—and yet, here was a perfect chance to escape. She wouldn't have to lie about being pureblood, and in Ravenclaw, it seemed as if everyone would have some sense about them.

 _But it's not like I can exactly choose my house, can I?_ Vowing to wait and see, Alice smiled at the girl, scratching Elrond gently behind his ear.

"I think I'll get him," Alice said, turning to look at her grandmother.

"Excellent!" Gabrielle beamed, clapping her hands together. "I can't wait to see you and Elrond in the common room, Alice! It'll be just fantastic!"

* * *

They supped in the Leaky Cauldron, after a long day filled with dashing around and attempting to find everything Alice needed. A huge pile of purchases took up an entire seat at the table, with more covering up needed table space.

Alice quietly stabbed at her fish and chips, preferring to use a fork rather than her fingers. Edmund chuckled a bit, playing with a small item Dymphna had purchased for him—a chocolate frog.

"So this, when I open it, will come to life?" he asked, for what must have been the tenth time.

Dymphna nodded, knocking back a bit of firewhiskey. "Kids love them—I kept one as a pet, once, till it ran away. It melted."

Edmund's face fell a bit. "So it just….melted like chocolate?"

"What did you expect?" Amaryllis chuckled. "It's chocolate—magic can't keep it from melting."

"It can," Alice muttered, stabbing at her fish once again. "They're just too lazy to put that charm on it."

She shoved the fish into her mouth, chewing on it in the most disgusting manner she could. It was a rare moment when she was allowed to act her age when dining in public—no one had surrounded either of her parents in a frenzy, snapping photographs.

They didn't recognize them at all—her mother was nobody here.

"Alice, try to have some manners," Dymphna sighed, setting down her drink. "You're better than this."

"No, I'm not," Alice blurted, her mouth filled with fish. She swallowed the lot and reached forward for her drink, slurping it as loudly as she could. "I'm a savage. Rawr. Rawr rawr."

Amaryllis chuckled a bit, waving her hand lazily at a napkin. It took to the air, flew towards Alice, and gently rubbed at her cheek, removing a stray drop of the milkshake.

"Thanks, grandmother," Alice said robotically, burping a bit. She giggled, grinning with pride, and only received an eye roll from her parents.

Edmund sipped a bit at his drink, before setting it down as well. "Are you excited to go off to Hoghead, Alice?"

" _Hogwarts_ ," she corrected, smirking a bit.

"But are you excited?" Edmund pressed.

She nodded. "I'd be stupid if I wasn't—it's magic, magic, and more magic!"

Dymphna muttered something on her breath, yet Alice couldn't pick it up. Her face fell a bit, looking at her mother for some sort of sign of approval.

Her mother sighed. "It's not W.A.D.A. but….I suppose it could be alright."

"It'll be more than alright," Alice said eagerly, squirming a bit in her chair. "I'm going to be the greatest witch there ever was—even greater than You-Know-Who!"

"He wasn't great," Dymphna frowned sharply. "He was a terrorist—a murderer and a scoundrel."

Her voice rose, as if she was performing for a crowd. She glanced around, looking for her audience, before settling on the fidgeting form of her daughter. "You shouldn't talk about him like that, Alice…People might think you're like him."

Alice frowned a bit, sipping at her milkshake moodily. "He was good at spells."

Amaryllis nodded. "He was, love. But not everyone who is good at something is good. It's a matter of morality."

Edmund gazed around awkwardly, as if trying to find a place to jump in. "You'll be better than him, Alice, dear. But you'll be good—you won't be a criminal."

She finished off her milkshake, pondering it a little bit. In all of the plays and films her parents performed in, Alice always loved the role of the villain. They were confident, clever, cool, and charming—everything that she admired.

Was it really all that bad, then, to be evil?

"Of course," Alice said, clearing her throat a bit. "I'll be the good guy…"

Her parents beamed at her, though her grandmother's smile was less sincere. Alice forced herself to smile back, still internally pondering over whether or not it was all right to be evil.

 _What makes someone evil, anyways?_


	5. Chapter 5

Alice stared out of the window, imagining that she was supposed to have some sort of moral epiphany, or feelings of nostalgia. She craned her neck, looking at the cars as the rushed by, without any real idea of how the world truly was—that magic was indeed real, and they were blind in their ignorance.

"Are you excited, love?" Edmund asked, honking his horn as he turned sharply into the parking lot outside of the station. He was still used to driving in America—the wrong way, of course. And as of such, he had a tendency to drift towards the right in heavy London traffic.

"I guess so," Alice said, unbuckling her seatbelt before the car had even stopped. Luckily, her father was focused on not running over any pedestrians, so he wouldn't be able to scold her. Her mother and grandmother could not have cared less about seatbelts.

Edmund frowned a bit, before softening. "You must be nervous—remember, just send a bloody bird or something and we'll come get you."

"An owl," Alice corrected stiffly, opening up her car door and hopping out.

"Yes, it's a flying rat," Edmund sighed, rolling his eyes a bit. "They're all the same to me."

He winked, eliciting a giggle from his daughter. Dymphna and Amaryllis climbed out of their seats, stretching their backs slightly. Amaryllis, at Dymphna's insistence, was there to ensure that they could find the platform properly.

"W.A.D.A. is just through the barrier by platform one," Dymphna pointed out. "it's not too late for you to transfer there—and it is, of course, number one as in the best, that barrier…"

Amaryllis chuckled a bit. "Let the girl make her own choices, Dymphna—she's her own person."

Alice nodded, puffing up her chest a little bit. "I'm better than a theater buff!"

Dymphna and Edmund winced a bit, exchanging a choice look. A silent conversation occurred between the two of them, yet Alice was oblivious to it, following her grandmother inside of King's Cross. Her grandmother bustled around, going through the crowd with ease. She paid no attention to the strange looks Edmund was attracting as he pulled Alice's luggage.

"Did you like Hogwarts?" Alice asked, right before Amaryllis stopped in front of the barrier.

Amaryllis nodded. "Best years of my life, Alice."

"What house were you in, again?" Alice asked, wiggling a bit as her parents stopped behind her. She rushed to her dad, scooping up her new kitten from the small cat carrier he had brought with them.

Her grandmother got a funny look in her eye. "I'll tell you when you tell me yours."

"But I don't know mine," Alice pouted, slumping a bit. Elrond meowed in protest, his claws coming out and digging in slightly.

Amaryllis laughed. "Then I suppose you'll have to write to me as soon as you know, hmm?"

Grumbling a bit, Alice scratched Elrond behind the ears, before turning her attention to the brick barrier in front of her. It was merely half past ten.

"I just run through this, then?" Alice inquired, craning her neck to look at her grandmother.

Her mother, wearing a sparkly blue dress, leapt in. "Yes, darling—just run at it. All the wizarding trains work on a system like this, so you better get used to it."

Alice nodded a bit, slightly taken aback by her mother's rare knowledge. She had seen her mother's OWL and NEWT scores—they were few and below average. Despite being an immensely talented actress, Dymphna had struggled to graduate W.A.D.A.

 _The real reason she does mostly muggle film…_ Alice giggled to herself a bit, before returning her attention to the task at hand. The barrier stared back at her intensely, and Alice squinted back it, as if trying to determine whether or not it was real.

"Can we do this already?" Edmund groaned, growing slightly impatient. A few people were beginning to stare at him—no doubt recognizing him from some film. He loathed the lack of privacy inherent with his career at times.

Alice muttered an apology, walking slowly forward. The barrier loomed closer and closer to her. She gulped slightly, kicking it lightly with her toe—it remained solid. She bit her lip, kicking at it harder, until her foot passed through air.

"It's not working!" Alice groaned, before blinking a bit. She hadn't missed the barrier as she had thought—she had gone straight through it. Stepping forward, she glided through the rest of the barrier, turning pink at her foolishness.

Coughing a bit from the sudden change in atmosphere, she gazed around at the hazy platform. Billows of smoke were coming from a gleaming scarlet steam engine, with students milling around and chatting with their loved ones. Half of them had already donned their school robes, with various colored hoods and insignias.

 _This is it._ Standing up slightly on her toes, she attempted to see over the heads of the students and into the compartment windows. Hardly able to make out more than a few forms, she gave up, turning around to watch her father appear through the barrier.

"That's neat!" he grinned, giggling to himself. He pushed his hand out, marveling at the way it seemed to vanish through the barrier, and repeated this process for a few moments. Dymphna, having enough of this, promptly slapped his hand back and dragged him over to Alice.

Alice laughed a bit. "It's just magic, Dad."

"Just magic," he repeated, with a mocking tone. "It's amazing!"

Dymphna nodded, successfully looking over the crowd. "We best get her all sorted, before all of the compartments fill up. I hope that isn't an issue but…You never know."

"Have you got any friends, dear?" Amaryllis questioned, taking Alice's hand and guiding her towards the train. "I don't suppose you do—but in time, you'll make some, don't you worry."

She blushed a bit. Making friends had never been all too easy for her. Due to her life, the closest people she had to friends were the children of other actors, and once the project ended, she never heard from them again. It forced her to look inward, and all of her social skills had to be learned quickly, in fear that she might ruin her parents' careers with a reporter.

Amaryllis quickly found an empty compartment, waving her wand and hoisting Alice's belongings inside. She always did love to show off.

"There," she beamed. "You just hop on in—take some galleons, too, love—and you'll make friends in no time."

Placing a few galleons into Alice's hands, Amaryllis offered Alice her arm, helping her jump up onto the train. A whistle blew, signaling that the train would depart within a quarter of an hour.

"Make sure to right, love!" Edmund called out, a few tears escaping his eyes and trailing down his face.

For a moment, Alice's eyes felt wet and sticky. She nodded, mumbling her goodbyes, only to be interrupted by a particularly loud meow from Elrond. Walking into her compartment, she opened up the window, content to stare out at her family for the remaining time she had left. A few tears glided down her face.

They were the only people in the world who truly cared for her.

* * *

The train was whizzing away, and Alice couldn't help but stare at the bushy haired girl sitting across from her. She was completely absorbed in her book, though every now and then, she would cast a fretful glance out of the window.

She was wearing robes with a lion insignia—she was a Gryffindor, Alice realized. A few other people had walked by the compartment, glancing within in, and then avoiding it like the plague.

"Alice Holmes," Alice blurted. "That's my name—what's yours?"

The bushy haired girl looked up, peering at her. She shook her hair slightly, a bit pretentiously, and sat up, completely straight. "I'm Hermione Granger."

Alice nodded a bit, feeling stiff with nervousness. She had to be well liked at school—there would be no promise of the individuals vanishing within a month, never to be seen again, as there was on film sets.

"It's nice to meet you," Alice said awkwardly. "What are you reading?"

"I'm doing a bit of light revision," Hermione said, holding up the title of the book. It was _the Standard Book of Spells: Grade 3_. There was an aura of smugness of Hermione's face, and she looked at Alice, expecting some sort of recognition.

"So…you're a third year, then?" Alice deduced, judging from the level.

"Second, actually," Hermione boasted. "I enjoy a bit of independent study—Professor Flitwick is sure to give me top marks again this year."

 _She must be rather good, then,_ Alice thought to herself. She inspected the girl again, hoping to find more information about her. Yet there was nothing else to tell—she knew that Gryffindor was supposed to be made up of brave students, so Hermione must have had some nerve, she concluded.

"What house do you think you'll be in?" Hermione questioned, tilting her head slightly. She resembled an owl, almost.

"Slytherin," Alice declared, smiling weakly.

Hermione's face fell a bit. "Oh..."

Alice frowned a bit. "What is it? Is there something bad about that house?"

Hermione gazed around the compartment, as if deciding how to explain something complicated to a small child. Luckily for her, the door slid open, revealing a chubby yet timid boy with blonde hair.

"Neville," Hermione said, sounding a bit relieved. "Do you need help finding Trevor?"

The boy nodded, and Hermione got up, muttering an apology to Alice. In a matter of minutes, she was left alone in the compartment, with only Elrond to talk to. Alice sighed a bit, biting her lips.

"Maybe Slytherin isn't the best," she wondered aloud. There were other houses, she knew—Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, and Ravenclaw. Hufflepuff had a rather silly name, and she didn't consider herself to be a rather brave person.

Relaxing slightly, she began to imagine herself in Ravenclaw—perhaps that house was truly the best. Alice's eyes trailed around the compartment one more time, before falling on her trunk.

 _Might as well read, then_ , she thought. She jumped onto the seats, clambering to grab a book—one of her textbooks—and open it up. Already, she had identified someone to compete with.

She would have to become better than Hermione Granger.

* * *

Alice looked up from her book, seeing a dumpy witch rapping against the door of the compartment. Her stomach grumbled a bit—it must have been about noon.

Getting up, she slid open the glass door, peering at the beaming witch.

"Something from the trolley, dear?" the witch asked kindly. A few other students were beginning to open their own compartment doors, gazing at the food hungrily.

"Yes, please," Alice said quickly, pulling a handful of galleons out of her pocket. "Can I have three pumpkin pasties?"

The witch took her money, exchanging it for some of the delicious treats. Alice always loved pumpkin—she demanded pumpkin pies every year, no matter where in the world her parents were working. The taste was rich and divine, and she found that the pumpkin pasties tasted rather similar.

A girl loudly ordered some chocolate frogs, and it took Alice a moment to recognize her—it was the girl from the wand shop. She stared a bit at her.

"Hey, I know you!" the girl exclaimed, catching Alice's gaze. "You're a first year too! My name's Marie—yours?"

"Alice," she said softly, clenching her pumpkin pasties tightly. They crumbled a bit in her hand, yet she didn't pay any attention to that.

Marie beamed at her. "Why don't you come and sit with some other first years? We're playing Truth or Truth!"

"Isn't it Truth or _Dare?_ " Alice asked, feeling skeptical.

"Yes, but we ran out of dare ideas," Marie explained sheepishly, laughing a bit. She grabbed Alice's hand and dragged her over to a compartment merely three compartments down, leaving Alice's belongings behind, much to her protest.

The compartment was a bit crowded. Five other girls were crowded into it. Two of them were giggling together, reading a magazine—another girl, reading the same magazine, was smiling softly to herself.

"Want a copy?" Marie asked. "It's the Quibbler—rather silly, but Luna had them. I don't believe most of it."

"It's all true," the girl—Luna—said dreamily. "You'll see. You just need to have an open mind."

Another girl, tan with wavy white hair, nodded a bit. "Magic is real—so it's not too much of a stretch for this to be real too."

"That's Helene," Marie explained, plopping down on a seat. She forced Alice to sit down in between her and a moody looking girl with black hair. There was a streak of blue in it, which Alice recognized as a hair extension from a magical beauty line. Her mother adored them.

"You're sitting next to Edwina," Marie added. "And then that's Gale, and those two…Hey, what are your names again?"

The laughing girls said nothing, still absorbed in the paper. Marie sighed a bit, looking at Alice helplessly. "What house do you think I'll get, Alice?"

"Sorry?" Alice squeaked. She hardly knew the girl—she had just met her, really.

Marie grinned. "Come on! Everyone's guessed. They fancy I'll be a Gryffindor—but I don't know, is crimson really my color?"

"Maroon," Gale, a sweet yet suspicious looking girl, corrected. "I'm almost positive that the color is maroon."

Marie rolled her eyes, ignoring the girl. She gazed at Alice expectantly, radiating pure hyper energy.

"Er….Hufflepuff, maybe," Alice suggested. "It's just a guess, though…"

Marie beamed a bit. "That house is my favorite—you look like a Ravenclaw to me. It's a shame—you could be my minion."

"Unlikely," Edwina laughed. "Minions can't have minions."

Marie wrinkled her nose a bit, before returning her attention to Alice. Alice panicked a bit, feeling surrounded by all sorts of people. For a moment, her mind flickered back to the boy she had met in the shop—Draco. He had promised to help her out.

"Actually, I've got to go find someone," Alice said, excusing herself as she stood. "It's been lovely meeting all of you, really."

She smiled convincingly at them, schooling her expressions to the best of her ability. Lying came naturally to her—it was a valued skill in her family, where they earned money off of their ability to betray reality.

Marie pouted a bit. "But...Alright, I guess."

She slumped a bit, and Alice left the compartment in a hurry. She gazed up and down the train, wondering where Draco would have been. However, her stomach grumbled, and she remembered her treats.

 _I'll look for him later,_ Alice resolved. She returned to her own compartment, biting into the pumpkin pasties quickly. Smiling a bit, she finished them off, staring out the window as she did so. They were deep in the countryside, with buildings becoming more and more sparse.

It wouldn't be too much longer until they arrived—just a few more hours, at most.


	6. Chapter 6

There was no sparkling castle in the distance. Alice pressed her face up against the window, her nose squishing comically as she strained her eyes to make out any shape or figure in the darkness. From her years of living around the stage, she had picked up a knack for spotting things in the dark—often they were crew members, desperately hoping not to be seen while moving around sets.

Sighing a bit, Alice removed her face from the glass, gazing around with a sense of timelessness. She hardly reacted when the compartment door slid open, revealing a towheaded boy with a pale, almost slimy face.

"Alice," Draco beamed, waving behind him. Two boys flanked him, imposingly chubby as they stared Alice down. For a moment, she imagined them as buffoons, clowns, circus performers.

They couldn't have harmed her. She took a deep breath, before smiling weakly back at Draco. "Sorry, I couldn't find you earlier…"

Draco nodded, before collapsing down into a seat across from her. The two boys stood by the door, blocking it as an entrance—or as an exit. Alice gulped a bit, clenching her hands at her side.

Draco, however, hardly paid any attention. He grasped a licorice wand out of his pocket and bit the end off, charmingly yanking it away with his mouth like a feral creature. "Bet you haven't heard the news yet, eh, Alice?"

"What news?" Alice frowned.

Her mind flashed back to the odd paper the girls from before had showed her—the Quibbler, it was called. Perhaps there had been some sort of major event in the world that she had missed. _Do wizards have a king?_ Alice pondered. She fancied that perhaps the king had been decapitated, his head coming off cleanly and rolling in the street.

After a moment, she dismissed the thought. Wizards were too absurd to have any sort of decent form of government. Her parents raised her to favor royalty, and she largely accepted it, mostly stemming from her childhood desire to become a queen herself.

"Potter's dead!" Malfoy grinned, his face cracking as he did. Alice's eyes strayed, watching as the smallest droplet of blood stemmed from his lip.

"Potter?" Alice frowned. The name rang a bell, though for all that she tried, she couldn't place it.

The two idiots standing by the door exchanged a glance. It wasn't the one of hilarity that Alice expected—rather, it was of fear and worry. It was as if Alice were a dog, and prior to that moment, they all believed her to be a perfectly normal human.

"Harry Potter," Draco sneered, a hint of disgust in his face. "What, were your parents muggles or something?"

Alice rolled her eyes. "We already went over this—I'm from the Blackstone family."

Her heart skipped a beat as Draco paused, mulling the information over. Although she was not entirely certain why, it was apparent to her that her father's status was something to be ashamed of. Her muggle father was something to hide, to keep hushed and quiet at all costs.

"Well, they must not have taught you very well," Draco commented dryly. "You do know who Harry Potter is?"

His eyes flashed green, as Alice nodded. Her grandmother had told her all about He Who Must Not Be Named, and assured Alice that she had nothing to fear from him. A young boy, just a year her elder, had vanquished him before he could even crawl. The story appeared to be fabricated, no different than a myth or a legend, yet Alice could never forget it.

"Well, Potter's bloody perfect," Draco muttered, his blond locks casting a shadow over his face. "You should see him… him and his broomstick!"

"His…broomstick?" Alice asked, throwing a glance at the two grunts by the compartment door. A weary expression slipped over their face, as if this was a speech they had heard far too many times.

"Yes!" Draco groaned. "Everyone thinks he's so perfect, just because he's got that scar! I can split my face open too! And then… then all of the teachers give him good marks for being nice!"

Alice nodded, attempting not to furrow her eyebrows. Draco did not appear to be someone whom it would be favorable to create tension with. And besides, he could prove to be a worthy ally—a worthy _friend_.

Though, his earlier claim alarmed her greatly. How could the Boy Who Lived die? If anything, he should have been invincible, beyond the reach of mere mortals.

"So…he's dead?" Alice asked timidly.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the fatter of the lumps look at the other in surprise. She bit her lip slightly, before returning to the psychotic, almost raving form of Draco.

"He might as well be," Draco snorted. "He missed the train! And perfect Harry Potter would _never_ do that!"

"Maybe he's sick…" one of the grunts stated dully, their words falling like lead.

" _Maybe he's sick_!" Draco mocked, his voice turning suddenly high pitched. "You're such an idiot, Goyle! It's a miracle you even made it in Slytherin! _Of course_ he wouldn't just miss the train for a case of the sniffles!"

Goyle stared down in dismay, a touch of red coloring his cheek. Alice and the other grunt bit their lips, each attempting to hold back giggles at Draco's wording. It seemed even more absurd the way he put it—that the great Harry Potter would miss an entire year of education due to a runny nose.

"He's not actually dead then," Alice stated lamely, glancing over out the window.

Only the darkness greeted her, with no distinguishing features or traits. It was all the same—only singular blob of nothingness.

"Weasley isn't here either," Draco muttered, casting his gaze out of the compartment. "They'll be here though, Alice."

"Great," Alice smiled thinly.

"And you better not be making friends with them," Draco warned, rising from his seat. "I wouldn't want you to be hanging out with rubbish like Wealsey and Potter—oh, and bloody Granger a well."

 _That must be Hermione,_ Alice realized. She watched as Draco rose from his seat and motioned to his goons, before exiting the compartment without as much as a goodbye. She relaxed slightly, feeling the wheels of some machine, some force of fate, churning and moving beyond her control.

Though after a moment's thought, she chuckled.

"Potter can't be rubbish and perfect at the same time," Alice added, her wit only heard by the empty compartment, reaching the dusty and lonely seats and the chilling glass of the window.

* * *

The train came to a halt, and Alice nearly fell over in surprise. She had been perusing one of her textbooks, attempting to gain some sort of insight into all of the houses. Each opinion she had heard so far that day had been coated in bias, designed to cause her to support one agenda or another.

The more she read about Slytherin, the more wary she became. Legends spoke of Katharos the Spiteful and Gremric the Grim, two famous alums who ultimately came to no good. Then, it was the house that He Who Must Not Be Named called home, and the Death Eaters largely sprouted from. Each person consumed by evil appeared to belong.

The other houses thus became more appealing. Gryffindor's rashness turned Alice away from it, and she found her mind soothed by the loyalty and dedication of Hufflepuff, but also the wit and creativity of Ravenclaw.

Elrond meowed at her helpfully, and an older student rapped sharply on the compartment door. The conductor's voice wheezed above the chaos, instructing students that their belongings would be taken to the castle separately, and that they were to walk to the carriages. First years, however, would meet Hagrid.

Alice glanced at Elrond, before tucking him into her shirt. He was small enough that he was hardly noticeable underneath her robe, and he purred happily. Neither of the two particularly looked forward to the idea of being separated. And Alice, paranoid as ever, feared that Elrond might have been mistakenly sent back to London otherwise.

The two of them entered the stream of students pouring out into the tiny hall of the train. At her earliest opportunity, Alice descended from the train, clutching onto the tiny ball of fur that was Elrond, in order to keep him from falling from her grasp. She stood on her toes, attempting to gaze over the crowd, when she spotted a lantern swinging in the distance.

"First years this way!" a gruff voice called out, hardly cutting through the crowd.

Gaining a bit of confidence, she attempted to push her way through the crowd. Instead, she danced through the cracks and the gaps, slowly making her way towards the swinging lantern light. By the time she emerged from the crowd, her feet were heavily bruised, and her arms were scraped from her attempts to race through.

A girl with dirt covering her face stood next to a miniature Goliath. The man, hardly even human, towered over Alice, practically the same height in her mind as the Empire State Building. His face was covered in rough, coarse hair, almost like cotton dyed black. And his eyes, like two glinting beetles, swept through the crowd.

"First years, come on, now!" the giant boomed, clapping his hands together. The ground vibrated, or at least, Alice could have sworn it did. She gulped slightly, staring at the monstrous man in front of her.

 _Is this Hagrid?_ Alice gulped. As much as she enjoyed to read about dragons and knights and wizards and princesses, the realization that all sorts of creatures could exist had not yet sunk in. She blinked again at the towering giant in front of her.

The giant laughed. "Yer a bit surprised, aren't you?"

Alice blinked, mumbling an apology as she glanced away. The giant rambled on about understanding, with a vague explanation of his parentage. The words were lost on Alice as complete and utter shame washed over her, captivating her entire being. Potential solutions ran through her mind, and had Elrond not been hiding underneath her shirt, she would have sprinted away in fear of social harms.

"Right, then," Hagrid mumbled, as the crowd of students began to thin. Only a trickle continued to pause in front of him, looking around with frightened, anticipating faces.

"Let's be off," Hagrid stated, waving his hand around. A slight wind kicked up as he did so, and Alice stumbled a bit from fear, and from surprise.

She caught her feet just as Hagrid began to stomp down a narrow path, little clouds of dirt rising up as he went. The rest of the students followed behind her, and dimly, she could hear a few familiar voices calling her name—she pretended to be deaf to their cries. After the embarrassment of being caught staring, and the fearful encounter with Draco, Alice felt lost in some sort of wonderland.

The giant paused at the bottom of the hill, in which a black lake reflected a luciferous castle. Each light mesmerized Alice, with the soft ripples of the water distorting it. A fleet of boats disturbed the surface, appearing as if out of nowhere. Hagrid climbed clumsily into the first one, before wordlessly motioning for everyone else to follow.

Her stomach flip-flopping, Alice selected the boat directly behind Hagrid. Of all of the places, it would be the hardest for Hagrid to stare at her, and to remember her insensitive behavior. A tiny boy, mouse like compared to her, sat down next to her. His entire face was lit up as he held out a camera, attempting to preserve the magical scene in front of them.

"Is that the castle, then?" the boy with the camera whispered, as a beefy boy joined him and Alice in the boat.

"No, it's actually a restaurant," the boy replied icily, a chip on his shoulder. His salient teeth jetted out at odd angles, as if he had a career fighting already at age eleven. To further the appearance, his eyes were sunken, and his skin was a hollow shade of olive.

"Oh," the boy with the camera replied quietly, his smile fading. "What's your name? My name's Colin and—"

Suddenly, the boats lurched forward, and Colin fell backwards in the boat. He chuckled a bit, hitting his head against the bench as he struggled to regain a proper position. A group of girls in a nearby boat laughed at him, yet he was far too mystified to notice.

"We're moving!" Colin whispered, his eyes filled with warmth and light. "It's like magic!"

"It is magic!" Alice laughed, a genuine smile slipping onto her face.

In a matter of moments, her earlier troubles were all but forgotten.

* * *

A stern professor whose name Alice had been unable to catch led them all out into the great hall. Students gawked at them as they entered, turning their heads and whispering with each other excitedly. At the table clad in some shade of crimson, an expression of fear and panic characterized the group.

 _Harry Potter's in that house,_ Alice realized. _They must be worried that he's dead, like Draco said._

Her attention shifted, however, as a hat sitting on a stool suddenly sprung to life. It opened up its brim like a mouth, grinning at each student in turn, despite its patchwork appearance. And then, in a moment, it burst into song.

"I may not be what you expect,

But don't let yourself be deceived,

I'll sort you all,

From short to tall,

No matter how old I be!

In Gryffindor I put the brave,

And in Ravenclaw I put the wise.

In Slytherin I place the ambitious,

And in Hufflepuff I put the exceptional rest!"

The hat promptly stilled once more. The faces of the old students were those of disappointment, and Alice could hardly blame them. After being treated to years of Broadway performances, the tiny song of the hat hardly sated her musical cravings. _It couldn't even be bothered to use some sort of verse structure,_ Alice sighed.

"Now, now, the song was a fine song," the stern witch warned, stepping out once again with a long and ancient appearing scroll. "When I call your name, please put on the hat, and you will be sorted."

"Creevey, Colin!" the professor called out, and instantly, the hall was hushed.

Each student leaned forward with anticipation as the tiny boy, still clinging to his camera, timidly approached the hat. He paused before touching it, as if afraid that it would bite him. A moment later his head vanished beneath its brim.

"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat cried out, and the professor whisked the hat off of Colin's head. The Gryffindor table erupted into shouts of triumph and cheers of victory, nearly drowning out the name of the next victim.

"Crewe, Pagan!"

A girl with dark skin emerged from the crowd, her eyes narrowed as she approached the hat. She sat it smartly on her head, and after a few minutes of deliberation, the hat's cries once more pierced the air.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Eccleston, Cecily!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Fawley, Edwina!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Gladwyn, Gwendolyn!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Holmes, Alice!"

Alice blinked a bit, watching as Gwendolyn took her place down at the yellow and black table. Mechanically, she walked towards the front of the room, feeling the attention of the student body lessen. After a few sortings, the older students began to play around with their wands, preferring to do anything but be respectful.

The professor nodded at her as she sat on the stool, and in a moment, the world had vanished. The hat enveloped her in darkness, and a tingling sensation occurred in the back of her mind, as if something was tickling her brain. Instinctively, she began to curl inwards, as a voice brushed against her ear.

" _No need to be defensive there_ ," the hat chuckled. _"I'm inside your head."_

Alice gulped again, the vulnerability becoming more and more apparent. In her wildest imagination, the hat was reviewing each and every decision she had ever made, passing some sort of judgment down upon her.

For a moment, she regretted her decision to attend Hogwarts.

" _You do seem to enjoy saving your own neck,"_ the hat mused. _"Not that that's a bad thing, no?"_

Alice recoiled at the suggestion, her mind conjuring up the images of the goons on the train. They hardly had any brain—in their desire to survive, they abandoned anything worth having. It repulsed her, and she could sense the hat hesitate, as if pausing in indecision.

" _Plenty of wit as well… You do seem to quite enjoy it,"_ the hat commented. _"Ravenclaw would serve you well."_

 _The house with the smart people,_ Alice reminded herself. The acceptable choice would perhaps be the wisest option, though that assumed that she had any sort of say in her sorting. The hat made the decision—not her.

" _Indecisive as well,"_ the hat murmured, and Alice could feel it frown. _"Yet determined—quite determined to amount to something better… something better than being an actress…"_

The hat grew quiet, though Alice could feel its poking presence in the back of her mind. It appeared to be deliberating, and for a moment, she wondered how long her sorting was taking. Every other sorting appeared to have been instantaneous—none of them would have had time for this deep thought.

 _Maybe time moves slower under the hat,_ Alice theorized. The hat made no comment, digging through her mind, searching for some sort of answer that she was helpless to aid it in.

" _You're ashamed of your father,"_ the hat said. _"All because you fear he'll make you look bad… Clever, but self centered."_

Alice grimaced.

" _Would you choose differently?"_ the hat proposed, meddling deeper and deeper with her mind.

 _No_ , Alice answered, before giving it much thought. It was an instinctive reaction, and somehow, she could feel the hat swell with pride. It had come to its result.

" _It's been a while since I had a hatstall,"_ the hat chuckled. _"But I've sorted you all the same… Tread lightly, Alice Holmes…"_

"SLYTHERIN!"


	7. Chapter 7

The darkness provided by the hat vanished, and Alice glimpsed into the hall. Three of the tables had erupted into shouting, and her stomach curled at their taunting. Biting her lip, she slowly made her way to the table that was applauding her, rather than ridiculing her.

"Bet she's a future death eater!" a boyish voice jeered, just as a chocolate frog wrapper hit the back of her head.

Tucking her chin into her chest, Alice did not dare look behind her. All of the hatred and animosity took her by surprise. _I thought Slytherin was supposed to be the best house…_ A pang of regret rippled through her as she finally made it to the table, sitting down next to the only other Slytherin so far—the girl, Fawley.

The pair of them exchanged a quiet, uncomfortable glance, each one pondering how the next seven years of schooling would play out. Had either of them had known that they would be booed upon being sorted, perhaps they would have persuaded the Sorting Hat to place them elsewhere.

"Honeysett, Arlo!"

A blonde boy emerged from the crowd, his pudding cup haircut a thankful distraction for Alice. His tanned skin indicated that he couldn't have been from England—perhaps, he had spent a significant portion abroad. She had seen many children like him, seemingly out of place in their own homes due to time spent away. It was the curse of the child of a performer.

There never really was a sense of belonging, even when home. A bed was merely a bed. A house was merely a house. Nothing could ever possibly be anything more than that.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" the hat cried, and a respectful roar of applause occurred.

"Irwin, Finn!"

Quickly, Arlo was replaced by a skinny lad with an oddly square shaped head. He squinted at the hat, before slamming it onto his own head. A moment later, he joined Arlo at the Hufflepuff table, smirking with pride. Dimly, as Alice glanced over, she could see what appeared to be a toad poking out of his shirt collar.

"Jekyll, Harper!"

A chubby boy waddled up to the hat this time. His hair was greasy and slimy, slicked back in the most peculiar of fashions. Smirking, his cheeks appeared to be as round as a gumdrop, though their yellowish quality was quite unappealing.

"…SLYTHERIN!"

The boos erupted again, and Alice's heart fell. More wrappers were thrown at Harper's back as he practically ran towards the shelter of the Slytherin table, flopping desperately onto the bench next to an aloof girl with braids. Her sorrow didn't result from his plight, but from the knowledge that it was her plight as well.

 _Maybe W.A.D.A. wouldn't have been that bad…_ She shook her head at the silly notion. She had been over all of it before. W.A.D.A. was an institution for slackers and squibs, people who could only pass an OWL examination with crib notes. It wasn't a place for her, for a person destined for greatness.

She was, after all, going to become the most powerful witch who ever lived.

Kersey, Ethen was already sitting on the stool by the time Alice returned her gaze. The hat swallowed his head, and so, she couldn't make out any of his features. He could have been blue, for all that she knew.

"SLYTHERIN!"

Instead, it appeared he was green. The booing that had hardly ceased roared up once more, filling the Great Hall. To Alice's dismay, the teachers hardly seemed to do a thing about it. She sighed, staring down at her empty plate, wishing that she were sitting at the Ravenclaw table, and not the Slytherin one.

"Killam, Reagan!"

An extremely tall girl with brown braids and freckles ran up to the front, jamming the hat on her head with shaking hands. The adrenaline coursed through her, and Alice waited, wondering if she too would be sent to damnation—to Slytherin House.

"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat cried out, and Reagan excitedly took off the hat, sprinting over towards the Gryffindor table. As she sat down, she was surrounded by cheering and smothered with high fives.

Another wave of sadness washed over Alice.

"Lockwood, Maxon!"

Alice did not bother to watch this sorting. Instead, she gazed around the table, peering into the faces of her fellow students. Draco was at the other end of the table, snickering with two other boys. Every now and then, they would throw a glance over towards the Gryffindor table, as if expecting an explosion to occur. They seemed entirely smitten.

"RAVENCLAW!"

Draco sighed in dismay, yet a moment later, he continued his antics. This time, he motioned towards a rather cruel looking girl, with a thin and narrow face. Whispering into her ear, she erupted with quiet laughter a moment later, also gazing towards the Gryffindor table.

Alice frowned. _What on Earth could be going on?_

"Lovegood, Luna!"

She craned her neck, lifting herself slightly from her seat to get a better view. After years of following her parents from set to set, she had gotten used to watching people speak, to the point that she had made a game for herself, in order to pass the boredom. She would plug her ears and attempt to read their lips. And then, using the copy of the script her parents would always procure for her, she could check her work.

Currently, she was correct about half of the time—an impressive rate, as far as Alice was concerned.

"RAVENCLAW!"

Dimly, she could see Draco's lips move—a few words were all she could make out. Something had to do with "that Potter" and "train." Frowning slightly, she recalled what Draco had informed her earlier—that Harry Potter had died.

 _If they're laughing because someone is dead, perhaps they deserve the booing…_ Alice thought, turning her attention away from the group as a girl with ratty, long brown hair and thick glasses stumbled her way towards the hat.

Her cheeks were pink as the hat was lowered onto her head. A moment later, Alice recognized her as the girl from the train—Marie. She smiled slightly, recalling how much the girl had obsessed over her sorting. Now she would finally have her answer.

Subconsciously, Alice wished for her to join the green.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Alice groaned as the Hufflepuff table burst into applause, welcoming their newest member. Marie Nicholas eagerly walked over towards them, her face glowing. She sat down at the table, beaming with pride as she found acceptance.

Alice was dismayed. The next handful of sortings blew by in a blur, with a few people joining each of the houses. A few more girls and boys were booed over towards the Slytherin table, yet Alice paid them hardly any attention. She was far too bitter to care.

"Swift, Helen!" McGonagall called out, her voice sounding raspy. The list of students to sort seemed to go on forever, never ceasing. Despite the low number of students due to the war, time dragged on.

As far as anyone could tell, the sorting had already lasted an eternity.

"RAVENCLAW!"

She closed her eyes for a moment, hearing more names zip by. The small mob of first years awaiting their sorting was dwindling until only two more remained. A tall, confident girl with a shock of red hair stood next to a plain, dark haired girl with narrowed eyes. The two of them were juxtaposed, and for whatever reason, the former appeared to be familiar.

A glance down towards Draco and his friends proved her suspicion. A few more words became apparent to her, and from what she was able to piece together, the girl was related to Potter's weasel.

On second thought, the information made hardly any sense. Perhaps her skills would need some improvement.

"Weasley, Ginevra!" McGonagall called out, a brief twinkle in her eye. Her pursed lips told another story, as if this family had a certain reputation.

Alice watched with curiosity as Ginevra stepped towards the front of the room, and sat on the stool. McGonagall placed the hat on her, covering her bright red hair. Alice frowned, watching the hat twitch and move as it deliberated. Distantly, she could hear Draco's excited whispering, followed by frantic snickering.

"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat decided, and an enormous applause erupted. Three other boys, all with similar shades of red hair, jumped to their feet and screamed in ecstasy. As far as Alice could tell, they were related somehow.

 _Weasley—not Weasel, then,_ Alice realized, feeling slightly dim. _Perhaps Potter is friends with one of the Weasleys…_

"Wysteria, Gayle!" McGonagall called, as the last student stepped forward.

The entire school quieted down, as each house was ready to claim the last student of the year. For a while, the hat remained silent, perched almost entirely still on her head. No one dared to make the slightest sound.

And finally, after much deliberation, the last student in Alice's year was sorted.

"SLYTHERIN!"

* * *

The food at the feast was divine. Everything Alice had ever dreamed of was available, though that was quite normal for her. Her parents tended to spoil her, taking her to restaurants with five star ratings, and informing her to order whatever she liked. After the awfulness of the sorting ceremony, the feast helped to lighten her mood.

Once everyone had finished stuffing themselves, the food in front of them vanished slowly, until the tables in front of them were bare, aside from the goblets and plates that remained. The chatter of the feast quieted down, and Alice turned her head towards the front, watching as a very decrepit man with a flowing beard stood at a golden podium.

"Welcome back, students of Hogwarts!" the man said, his eyes twinkling like half crescent moons.

A smattering of applause sounded, cut off quickly by the raising on an ancient hand.

"I am Headmaster Dumbledore, for those of you who are new to these hallowed halls," he said, pausing briefly. "And before we all go off to bed, I have someone to introduce to you… Our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher!"

There was an awed gasp as a gorgeous man with delicate blonde curls, clad in a set of golden dress robes, made his way towards the front of the room. It took Alice only a moment to recognize him as the man from the book signing—the famed Gilderoy Lockhart. Though, she still wasn't entirely sure what he was famous for…

For all she knew, he was famous for doing nothing at all.

Lockhart beamed at the crowd, raising his hands up. "Students of Hogwarts… It is an absolute honor to be here."

His teeth sparkled in the light, and Alice raised an eyebrow. She recognized a teeth-whitening charm when she saw one. Her mother had used one when she starred as Snow White, enhancing her beauty with magic in order to get the part. No muggle woman had been able to compete.

"I must say, when Professor Dumbledore mentioned this post to me, I was flattered," Lockhart continued, pacing back and forth on the stage slowly. "I insisted that I wasn't at all qualified, nor was I prepared to teach. I mean, me, now five time winner of Witch Weekly's Best Smile… I was terrified!"

The halls echoed with laughter, though Alice remained silent. His entire face had an unnatural glow to it, and mentally, she began running through the list of incantations and products he could have used. _Must be Bexley's face gloss_ , Alice deduced. Her mother loved it for the shimmering quality it gave the user.

"But then, your headmaster reminded me of something important—I _was_ qualified. I've beaten trolls, ghouls, ghosts, and vampires alike… I've even bested werewolves! And of course, I recently beat a few mountain giants—but you'll have to buy my new book, _Grumbling Giants,_ to hear about that."

Stopping at the podium, Lockhart allowed the Great Hall to lapse into silence. For a mere moment, his face took on the most serious of expressions.

"I've faced death more times than I can remember, students, and I have my Defense Against the Dark Arts class back from when I was a student to thank for my witty and daring escapes. I hope that this year, you too can learn to prepare yourself for the worst—and perhaps, you'll grow up to be half as amazing as myself."

He laughed, bowing politely as he was enveloped by applause. Alice frowned at him, clapping tersely and slowly, uncertain as whether or not to despise him. There was something about his character that alarmed her.

"Thank you for those words, Professor Lockhart," Dumbledore stated politely. "And now, let us sing the Hogwarts school song before retiring to our dormitories!"

* * *

Bronwyn Adley, a tall girl with short, curly white hair smiled at the group of first year Slytherins. A silver Prefect badge gleamed against her robes, and she motioned with her hand for the group to follow her.

"Now, you'll want to watch out a little when you're going to class," Bronwyn advised, hopping up a staircase. "And copy each motion I make—these stairs are bloody dangerous."

Alice gulped slightly, before following suit. As she looked around, the staircases did indeed seem to be quite lethal. Even now, the one they were climbing was shifting its position, swinging from one corridor entrance to the next. Her eyes widened as it finally settled into place, and she sprinted in an attempt to make it to the landing before it decided to move again.

"People in this school are ruthless," Bronwyn continued, leading them all down a corridor. "They judge us, as they think we're all Death Eaters. But don't let it get to you—we're a family, you see. Family doesn't let family get bullied by a bunch of uppity Gryffindors."

"That's why they were booing, then," Edwina sighed.

Bronwyn nodded, running down a flight of stairs. The rest of the group followed her, glad to be out of sight of the rest of the students. Each one of them loosened up, feeling relieved to be out of sight.

"It's always been like that," Bronwyn commented, finally stopping in front of a grey slab of wall. "I don't think it'll ever get better."

She smiled weakly, before turning around to face the wall. "This is the passageway to our Common Room—we change the password twice a month, and it generally has to do with some piece of Slytherin pride."

"What's the password this month, then?" Harper asked, tilting his head at the wall.

"Horcrux," Bronwyn grinned.

The wall in front of her slowly melted away, and the small group of students glimpsed inside, seeing the soft greens of the Common Room for the first time. Bronwyn stepped aside to allow them all to file inside, and they walked inside with wonder, gazing at the ancient trophies and the eerie, soft glow created by the lake.

The wall closed behind them abruptly, and Alice jumped slightly, throwing a glance over her shoulder. For whatever reason, her nerves only increased, rather than decreasing, as if she were in some sort of mortal peril.

"Welcome home, snakes," Bronwyn grinned. "Welcome to the Slytherin Common Room, or as we like to call it, the SCaR."


	8. Chapter 8

Alice hardly slept at all that night. There were approximately five girls in the first year dormitory, a peculiar number once Alice noticed that there were five boys in their year as well. Staircases heading down on opposite ends of the Slytherin Common Room lead towards their quarters, with the glow of the lake greeting them in the morning rather than the sky.

It was as magnificent as it was horrid. The unearthly glow painted everything in the most grotesque of lights, as if they were slumbering aboard a sunken ship. There appeared to be little danger of the lake flooding in while they slept, but it gave Alice a certain bit of anxiety. And so, she naturally picked the bed closest towards the exit.

She'd rather not have to shove through her housemates in order to escape her untimely demise. It would waste precious seconds.

However, escape plans were not all Alice occupied herself with throughout the night. As best as she could, she learned the names of all of her fellow housemates whom she would be sharing this dormitory with. Gayle slept in the farthest bed, her frizzy brown her distinguishing her from the others. As far as Alice could tell, she was aloof, and perhaps a bit vain.

Armelle, a girl with gorgeous brown hair carrying a reddish tint and dark skin, resided in the bed next to Gayle. Alice couldn't recall her speaking on one occasion, though she had a hidden, small, little smile that appeared to be entirely mischievous. Adrian Pucey, a stalking boy, had ruffled her hair when she entered the Slytherin Common Room, welcoming his _"little sis' to the SCaR!"_

Edwina, whom Alice had become acquainted with on the train, had spent most of the night at the edge of her bed, staring into the darkness. Whenever her gaze drifted towards Alice's bed, Alice quickly feigned sleep, hoping to avoid some sort of emotional conversation. From all of her time spent watching plays and films, already, it was evident that there was something gravely wrong with Edwina.

And besides, Alice had a reputation to create—she had to be known as indestructible, beyond the whims of human emotion. It was a survival instinct.

Lastly, Margo slept in the bed across from Alice's, and next to Edwina's. She was the tiniest of them all, with smooth hair. Her face marred it, as she looked more like a rodent than she did a human. One of her teeth slightly escaped her mouth, even when her lips were closed, appearing like some sort of fang.

Eventually, she did manage to drift off into an uneasy sleep. Her dreams were anything but peaceful, as she relived the Sorting Ceremony, only this time, she chose the blue instead of the green. The applause sounded, soothing her as she slept, and only when she awoke hours later did Alice find herself filled with despair.

It hadn't been real. The horrifying stigma against her was reality, all due to the color of her tie. She hadn't done anything wrong. Alice had not been the one to start the Wizarding War. She hadn't even been born yet. And somehow, every other student at Hogwarts held some deadly grudge against her, as if she had been the one to murder thousands.

" _I'm going to be the greatest witch there was—even greater than You-Know-Who!"_

She shuddered slightly, hearing her own words echo in her mind. A few of the older Slytherins last night, once they arrived, had instructed them in a brief history of the house. You-Know-Who was one of their most famed alumni, to the extent that most people forgot that Merlin had been brought up in Slytherin house.

 _It's not fair_ , Alice pouted, climbing out of her covers. Gayle and Armelle had already left, with the covers on their four-poster beds cascading down to the floor. Edwina sat engrossed in thought, pouring over some book, while Margo continued to sleep peacefully, her tiny chest rising and falling.

Her heart weary, Alice pulled on her uniform, dressing herself slowly. As she slipped her tie over her head and noted it, she felt as if she had suddenly cast iron chains around her neck. And upon slipping into her cloak, the Slytherin crest already sewn onto its fabric, she felt the weight only increase.

Once again, her mind flickered towards W.A.D.A.

* * *

Alice picked up her spoon, delicately scooping a small portion of porridge. The trip to the Great Hall was filled with furtive looks and gestures from the other students, yet she quickly picked on and walked in packs with her fellow Slytherins. The older students would use their wands and retaliate against each student who threw something at them, or who shouted something nasty.

A Gryffindor boy had ended up with worms instead of hair—it had been the highlight of her morning. Though, Alice did realize that perhaps the punishment hadn't been the most appropriate, and that it would result in further retaliation… But already, she found herself falling into the decades old pattern, of Slytherins battling the rest of the school, attempting to survive.

"Mail's here!" Pansy Parkinson, a girl a year above Alice, shrieked with delight.

Alice glanced up and witnessed the most magical of sights. A few hundred owls of all colors and sizes swooped into the Great Hall, laden with packages and letters. The majority of them headed towards the Slytherin table, dropping their loot carefully, as to avoid ruining a letter with marmalade. A plain barn owl swooped in front of Alice, dropping a small package, though she paid it little attention.

Across the hall, at the Gryffindor table, an explosion seemed to occur.

All of the owls delivering mail ceased their hooting, and they fled the Great Hall, as if aware that some great tragedy was about to occur. The silence hardly lasted, as in a moment, the large, booming voice of a woman filled the hall. The echoes obscured the message, causing Alice to strain her ears, only able to catch every other word.

"HOW—RONALD—CAR—HARRY—MUGGLES—SIGHT—INQUIRY—TOE—HOME!"

Alice stood up, attempting to see across the hall. A letter— _no, a howler_ —was suspended in the air. It was zipping around the head of a red headed boy whom she figured to be one of the many Weasleys. As far as she could tell, there wasn't a shortage of that family in Gryffindor.

"CONGRAT—GINNY—FATHER—VERY!"

The howler paused, before ramming itself into the head of the boy, and a moment later, it burst into flames. The Great Hall was once more enveloped with silence. The ashes floated gracefully down onto the Gryffindor table, ruining the porridge of the poor Weasley boy.

"Serves you right, Wealsey!" Draco sneered, grabbing another blueberry muffin.

"Lay off, Malfoy!" A bespectacled boy shouted back, his voice raspy. The two of them stared each other down from opposite ends of the Great Hall, and Alice laughed nervously, filled with uncertainty.

It had taken her only a few seconds, of course, to recognize him—the famed Harry Potter.

"At least I made it onto the train, Potter! I don't need to go around crashing muggle cars to make myself look good!" Draco yelled, smirking as he did so.

"You wanna fight, Malfoy?" Harry growled. He began to make his way towards the table, only to be held back by that pesky Hermione Granger. She pulled him to his seat, and Draco frowned, before returning to his own.

"Are they always like that?" Alice asked Bronwyn, as she was sitting across from her.

Bronwyn nodded, sipping her pumpkin juice. "Those two are always going at it—Harry was almost one of ours. 'Course, that was until he was rude to Malfoy there, ended up shattering something magical."

"Magical?" Alice frowned. "How on Earth can friendship be magical?"

"It would have redeemed our house," Bronwyn smiled sadly. "Can you imagine, Alice, if Harry Potter was sorted into Slytherin? Everyone loves him. They wouldn't be able to say such nasty things about us anymore."

Alice nodded, taking a gulp of her own pumpkin juice.

"Professor Snape will be by with your schedules soon, I'd expect," Bronwyn commented. "Now, I have to go attend to my girlfriend—Rachel, wait up!"

Edwina spat out her drink. "Wait…what? Did she say her girlfriend?!"

Alice shrugged, frowning slightly. "I think so. Why?"

"Well that's…that's…Isn't that a little bit weird?" Edwina questioned. "I mean, it isn't exactly normal."

Pausing slightly, Alice considered her reply. "It isn't that weird… I know loads of gay people."

Edwina raised an eyebrow at Alice. In that moment, Alice recalled that not everyone grew up around the acting community. It had been normal for her to see couples of the same sex, and she never questioned it. It was part of the culture.

"This is your timetable. Look at it…learn it…memorize it… love it," a low, almost double bass voice sounded.

A small schedule was placed in front of each of them, and Alice turned, staring into the face of Professor Snape. Cold and distant, his greasy hair framed his face. He frowned slightly, peering back at Alice.

"Had trouble sleeping, Miss Holmes?"

"Alice, please," Alice muttered, biting her lip. "And….yes."

Professor Snape's gaze softened. "My door is always open, Miss Holmes, if you would…need anything."

Alice gulped slightly, and Snape patted her shoulder, before sweeping away and moving down the table. She exchanged a weary glance with her fellow first years, noticing that all of the other Slytherins had already left, heading off to their first classes of the year.

Glancing down at her schedule, she spotted her first class of the day— _Charms._ Alice grimaced slightly, recalling her mother. It was the only class that they ever bothered to teach them at W.A.D.A., in her opinion. Sure, they had taught them potions and transfiguration, yet the focus had been on Charms.

And even then, her mother had hardly managed to pass that OWL examination.

"Does anyone know how to find the Charms classroom?" Alice asked.

She glanced at each of her housemates in turn, and all of them shrugged. They would have to find a path together, and Alice found herself greatly appreciative of the others around her. Without them, her sentence to Slytherin house would have been even more horrid.

"We'll find a way," Edwina assured her. "Come on, Margo and I are heading back to the SCaR—I figured you'd like to come back with us."

Alice smiled, getting out from her seat. "I'd like that."

* * *

Margo, Alice, and Edwina emerged from the Slytherin Common Room, laden with their books and their supplies. Each of them held their wands in their hands, continuing to marvel at them, hoping to be able to learn spells they had never dreamed of.

"My brother told me to go this way," Margo suggested, smiling with her tooth poking out.

"Oh, your brother is at Hogwarts?" Edwina asked, stepping out ahead. Already, the leader of the group had been designated. She walked with confidence, her robes almost flowing behind her, as if she had been born to walk in these hallowed halls.

Margo shook his head. "He graduated last year."

"Was he a Slytherin?" Alice inquired, rushing a bit to catch up with Edwina.

"Nah," Margo laughed. "He was… He was a Hufflepuff. Head Boy and all."

As far as Alice was aware, Hufflepuff was the second most hated house. Gryffindor seemed to be the most beloved, with Ravenclaw coming right after it. For whatever reason, everyone in Slytherin was condemned as a murderer, and everyone in Hufflepuff was held to be an idiot.

"That's really cool," Alice offered, "that he was Head Boy, you know."

Margo nodded, tugging on Edwina's sleeve to stop her. The staircase in front of them abruptly began to swing, rotating in a complete circle, before reattaching to the landing in front of them. Margo shrugged nervously, before assuming the lead and showing them the way.

"I was here when he graduated last year, got to watch," Margo explained as they crossed. "He taught me all his tricks."

Alice nodded, a flower of jealously blossoming in her heart. Her mother had taught her the finer techniques of dramatic magic—how to appear dead, and how to glow like a fairy princess. Margo, however, had the tutelage of a _real_ wizard. She knew things already, Alice expected, that she had no possibly way of knowing.

For a moment, she hated Margo.

"That's really nice of him," Alice stated lamely, allowing her mood to simmer down.

She couldn't just go around, blindly hating her housemates for no reason other than advantages. If that was the logic she intended to use during her time at Hogwarts, then she may as well hate each and every person present. That would get her nowhere.

"Well, this is it, then," Edwina beamed. "Finally, a decent class!"

She opened the heavy door in front of them, and the hinges creaked, announcing their arrival. Half of the other students had already arrived, and an incredibly short man, standing on top of a teetering pile of books, waved at them as they came in. His beady little eyes were slightly intimidating, but he appeared to be friendly enough.

"Welcome, welcome!" he squeaked. "Sit down, sit down! Slytherin is on the left side of the room, Hufflepuff on the right!"

"Aww, come on!" Marie, the girl from the train, groaned. "Can't we sit with whomever we like?"

Flitwick shook his head, causing the pile of books to tremble and shift. Somehow, with his little pudgy arms, he managed to retain his balance. "You'll find that in most classes at Hogwarts, Miss…?"

"Marie Nicholas," Marie stated proudly.

"Miss Nicholas, that we tend to have our classrooms organized by house," Flitwick explained. "It's simply how things are done."

Marie nodded, mumbling under her breath as she took a seat in the center right, as close as she could be to the Slytherins. Alice hesitantly took the seat to Marie's left, bracing herself for the taunting and the name calling that had followed them throughout the halls.

"Alice!" Marie screamed.

She jumped. Blinking severely, she tensed every muscle in her body, prepared for an onslaught of insults and taunts. In the Slytherin Common Room, the older students had already gone over potential scenarios, warning them of everything they might expect in their classes.

However, none of them had prepared her for this. Rather than belittle her, Marie wrapped Alice in a gigantic hug, squeezing the lights out of her and leaving her gasping for air.

"It's…good to see you…" Alice choked out, her face turning blue. "Please…. Let…go?"

Marie laughed, releasing Alice from her grasp. "Did I scare you?"

Her face flushed with embarrassment, and Marie frowned with concern. "Okay, seriously, Alice… Did something happen?"

For a moment, Alice considered telling Marie everything that had happened that day. She considered mentioning how a group of Ravenclaws had stuck out their legs when they walked by, or how a Gryffindor prefect advised a group of first years to expect only trouble from Slytherins. Would it be worth to tell Marie about how awful she had been treated, just in her first few hours at Hogwarts?

"Nope, nothing happened," Alice replied wearily. "I'm just tired."

"You know, if it's all the Slytherin hating stuff that's going on, I think it's really stupid," Marie commented, patting Alice on the back. Somehow, she knew.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Alice murmured, reaching into her bag to pull out her copy of _The Standard Book of Spells (Grade One)._ A small smile graced her lips.

Marie rolled her eyes in annoyance. "Come on, Holmes. Want a chocolate frog card? I've got seven extras, all going for a sickle a piece. I'm trying to get a black market of sorts going."


	9. Chapter 9

To Alice's frustration, she wasn't the prodigy she had hoped to be. When Professor Flitwick informed them that they wouldn't be casting a real spell until October, her pride got the best of her, and she looked up the incantation for the Knockback Jinx. It seemed to be of an appropriate difficulty level, and so, she decided to learn it all by herself.

Learning the incantation was the easy part. Her textbook stressed pronouncing each word with complete clarity, and the description of the spell listed which syllables needed to be stressed. A tiny drawing of the wand movement was included as well, and Alice found a quiet, secluded corner of the castle to practice just a week after she had been sorted.

Quickly peering around the corner, Alice ensured no one else was present. "If you're there, you best leave or you'll be legally responsible for what happens to you…"

There was no answer. She smirked, pulling out her beloved wand. Elrond meowed from behind her, as he had perched himself on the windowsill to her back, gazing around with wonder and curiosity.

"Fli… _pen_ …do!" Alice said slowly, savoring each syllable. She waved her wand in the jagged motion described by her textbook, aiming towards her Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook that was propped up a few feet in front of her.

A purple light was emitted from the wand, and Alice gasped slightly, peering at it in curiosity. It was a beautiful sight, yet a moment later, the light vanished. Something hit her in the chest, and for a brief moment, everything went dark.

Tiny stars swirled in front of her as she was thrown backwards, the small of her back colliding into the wall. Elrond let out a frightened meow as he dashed off the windowsill, running towards the safety of the Slytherin Common Room.

Fire glowed in front of her, and Alice groaned, blinking her eyes. A ghost-white arm reached out and grasped her, pulling her to her feet. Each bone of her body screamed in protest, and her head was pounding, all of the blood drawn towards a rapidly forming bump in the back.

"You alright there?" a kind voice asked, as a pair of green eyes stared her down.

"I'm… I'm…" Alice stuttered, squeezing her eyes shut tightly. Oh, how much she wished she could fall asleep right there, never to have to care again! It seemed so tempting, to close her eyes for more than a few minutes, and to enjoy some quiet darkness.

The face frowned. Freckles adorned it massively, as if a toddler had decorated it. "You knocked your head pretty badly. What's your name?"

"None of your business…" Alice muttered, forcing her eyes to remain open.

"Nice to meet you, Nunya Business," the girl grinned, clapping Alice on the back roughly. "I'm Mairead."

"Alice," she grumbled in response, finally regaining her breath. Slowly, the world shifted back into complete focus, and she was able to identify the person in front of her as more than a white and red blur.

"Nice name," Mairead smiled. "Now, what exactly were you attempting to do? You _do_ know we aren't allowed to use magic in the corridors, yes?"

 _Oops_ , Alice realized. Her face flushed and she quickly looked Mairead over, dreading to spot the shining badge of a prefect. Instead, there was nothing—not even the insignia of a house—to help Alice place her. However, Mairead couldn't have been much older than she was.

"Good to know," Alice commented, nodding awkwardly. "I was just… just trying to get in some practice with jinxes… Thought I'd get ahead."

Mairead laughed. "Well, you seem to have ran into a bit of trouble with it. You're a first year, right?"

Alice nodded. "Yeah."

"Slytherin?"

"You got me," Alice said lamely, her stomach swirling with dread. _Here it goes_ , Alice thought. _Time for the insults._

"That's pretty neat," Mairead replied, smiling widely. "I'm in Gryffindor, myself. I've got siblings in the other houses, though."

"I'm an only child," Alice responded, putting her wand away inside her cloak. It didn't seem that she'd be needing it.

And even if she did, it was now apparent that she was far more likely to hurt herself than anyone else. She couldn't even harm a defenseless textbook.

Mairead put a hand behind her head, scratching at her hair a bit. "Well, Alice, if you ever need any pointers, I'd be glad to help. I'm hoping to enter the Peverell Cup one day myself."

Alice's eyes widened with recognition. The Peverell Cup was a world wide dueling tournament, only open to the finest duelists. The previous champion was a girl named Kathleen, and she only won by out-swimming her opponent. The two of them had fallen into a lake, and her opponent had nearly drowned as a result.

 _She was a Slytherin too,_ Alice recalled. A photograph of her, shaking hands with the Head of House at the time, hanged on the wall in the Slytherin Common Room. Her hazel eyes were ecstatic, yet surprised and weary at the same time.

"Do you think you'll win it, then?" Alice asked.

"Well, I'm entering the Junior Cup as soon as I'm eligible," Mairead explained. "If I do well there, then maybe—but I mean, even that doesn't really mean anything when it comes to the Peverell."

The Junior Cup was designed for underage wizards, though an examination had to be passed beforehand. And then, they would have to receive a special recommendation from a teacher, only to be entered into a pool of potential contestants. Most of the referees at the Junior Cup were Peverell Cup competitors, so it wasn't taken as seriously.

It was, however, a good place to identify rising stars. One girl, a former Hogwarts student, had won both the Junior Cup _and_ the Peverell Cup. She was the first person in history to do it, and someone Alice had envied since she was small.

"That'd be cool if you won," Alice said, smiling awkwardly.

Mairead nodded. "Well, I've got to go—Professor Lockhart wanted to have a word with me. I'll see you around, Alice."

* * *

That evening, Alice attempted to cast the Knockback Jinx once more. Rather than sitting in a corridor for any prefect or teacher to find her, she had scouted out decent locations to practice. The best of them, hands down, had to have been one of the Girls' Bathrooms. It was constantly flooding, with the ghost of a depressing girl floating around it, screaming and throwing fits.

Alice hardly paid any attention to the ghost's drama, as she had grown used to tuning out boring and useless tirades. The drama in shows and films didn't stop on camera—it was brought off as well, and sometimes, the stars would attempt to drag her into it.

"And then, Draco just ignores me!" the ghost wailed, flying down towards the ground before swooping up in a circle.

"How horrible," Alice muttered, setting up one of her many Gilderoy Lockhart authored books on the damp bathroom floor.

"Everyone here is so mean!" the ghost screeched. "They don't even bother to learn my name!"

Alice bit her tongue, recalling that she hadn't bothered to learn the ghost's name either. For all she knew, her name was Fat Pat, and she had died from some sort of disorder. It didn't matter to her. Dwelling on the past was futile.

"Flipendo!" Alice stated firmly, whipping her wand at the textbook.

Rather than a purple light, this time a blue light emerged. The textbook teetered back and forth, yet to Alice's dismay, it remained standing. _At least it's not burnt,_ Alice reminded herself, glancing at the edges of the book she had been practicing with previously.

If she were lucky, Lockhart would never get around to teaching from that book anyways. Some of the pages were certainly not legible anymore. Not that it mattered, at any rate. The writing in his books made her eyes bleed.

"Just try again," Alice whispered to herself, gritting her teeth. "I'm bound to get it eventually…"

"That's what they all say," the ghost commented, floating down behind her. "Maybe you'll never get it, and you'll be a failure like… like me!"

Annoyance filled Alice as the ghost resumed her wailing, and Alice wished desperately that noise cancelling headphones had been on the required supplies list. Perhaps she'd knick some earmuffs from Professor Sprout next time they had Herbology. It would make her time in the bathroom much more manageable.

"Flipendo!" Alice shouted, keeping her mind clear and focused. Concentration was the key to performing any spell successfully, after all. She gritted her teeth, watching as the blue light appeared at the tip of her wand, and then it vanished, zipping across the room and colliding into the textbook.

It wobbled, and then it fell.

"You were saying?" Alice smirked, staring at her work with pride. Her first spell had been successfully cast.

And in her mind, it would be the first of many.

* * *

The most exciting class of all, of course, was flying. Alice was giddy with excitement as they poured down to the field, with Edwina amiably chatting on and on about her various flying achievements.

"I once did a complete spiral, almost hit my brother!" Edwina boasted.

"You almost hit him?" Margo frowned. "Is that… Is that something to be proud of?"

"Well, I didn't hit him… That's an accomplishment," Edwina clarified, tugging on her braid nervously.

"Of course it is," Alice chimed in, stifling a few laughs.

Edwina sped up, feigning ignorance about the amusement of her friends. She came from a pureblood family, one of the so-called Sacred Twenty-Eight. Her adoptive cousin had been sorted into Hufflepuff, and the two of them weren't on speaking terms for whatever reason. Last time Alice had asked, she had complained about a hat, going on and on about how it was her turn.

After that, Alice stopped asking questions about Sullivan Fawley. Instead, she listened to Edwina prattle on about how her grandfather had been Minister for Magic, and that she was destined to follow after his footsteps.

"Who do we have this with, anyways?" Alice asked, forcing Edwina to slow down to walk back in pace with her and Margo.

"We have it with the Ravenclaws," Margo answered, smiling meekly. Her tooth poked out, catching Alice's eye more than it should at this point. She was rather tempted to find some sort of spell to help Margo with it, yet she had a funny feeling that her help would not have been exactly welcomed.

"Looney Lovegood is going to be there," Edwina snickered. "I'm going to ask her about those nargie things again."

"Nargles," Margo corrected, sniffling slightly.

She was an avid reader of the Quibbler, a fact Alice only knew because the magazines had mysteriously been left on the floor next to her bed. They certainly didn't belong to her, and it was doubtful that anyone else in the dormitory would place the magazines among Margo's belongings.

"Whatever," Edwina chuckled. "It's the same thing. Do you think she'll end up lobbying the Ministry for nargle rights one day?"

Margo rushed ahead, brushing against Edwina as she did so. Alice made a pointed effort to look at anything but Edwina, attempting to stay out of the situation as best as she could. As much as Slytherins were loyal to each other, the few instances of bickering that occurred were vicious. She didn't want to be mixed up in that.

"What's got her all mad?" Edwina frowned. "I was just joking around."

"No idea," Alice lied. "I think it's her time of the month."

"What, her…her you know?"

"Yeah," Alice nodded. "She'll turn into a werewolf at any moment, I expect."

Edwina snickered, and the pair of them finished making their way towards the Quidditch pitch. Most everyone else had already arrived. Their instructor, an old and hawkeyed woman named Madam Hooch, stood in front of a pile of broomsticks.

"Good, looks like about everyone has arrived," Madam Hooch stated sternly. "Everyone needs to grab a broomstick and make two rows. Quickly now."

Edwina and Alice glanced at each other, before sprinting towards the brooms. Margo had already grabbed hers, making off with one of the few nicer ones. The majority of the brooms were battered and abused, broken after years of students learning how to fly on them.

"Gah, cleansweeps!" Edwina moaned, as she grabbed two broomsticks.

"It's not like they're going to have anything more recent," Alice pointed out, though she too felt disappointed. Her mother, whenever she flew, would rent one of the newest nimbus models. Though, even more often than that, they would use the Knight Bus, or some sort of muggle transportation.

"But these things are so… _old_ ," Edwina complained, wrinkling her nose. She tossed the worser of the pair to Alice, and she caught it neatly.

A girl with incredibly long, white-blonde hair frowned at the pair of them. Alice blushed, while Edwina merely rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, what are you looking at, Helen?" Edwina frowned. "It's a free country. We're allowed to have opinions."

"Shut up," Alice whispered. "You're going to make a scene."

Edwina shook her head, though she gave in to Alice and went to join Margo. Helen watched her go, before going off to join Matxon in the other line at the complete other end. Alice bit her lip at the entire debacle, wondering if perhaps the other houses were right to judge Slytherin so harshly.

Were they bitter because of they way the other houses treated them, or were they, the Slytherins, bitter because that was simply how they were?

"Come on, Alice, hurry up!" Margo shouted, shocking Alice from her thoughts.

She sprinted over to join them, and she ended up standing in between Margo and a Ravenclaw girl with dirty blonde hair—Looney Lovegood.

"Now, everyone, place your broomstick on the ground in front of you," Madam Hooch instructed once everyone had fallen into place. She marched down the center aisle, staring at each of them sternly in turn.

"Once you've done that, place your hand over your broom, and command it by saying _Up_ ," she continued, turning to face them all once she reached the end of the line. "You may begin."

Alice glanced down at her broom, reaching her right hand out and placing it over. Next to her, she could hear Looney Lovegood's voice command the broom softly, and she amused herself with imagining how long it would take her to get it. As far as anyone at the school was concerned, Luna was insane. There was no way she'd be able to get the broom to raise before—

"Madam Hooch, what would you like us to do next?" Luna asked, smiling dreamily with her broom in her hand.

Alice bit her tongue, tempted to curse. Her broom remained on the ground. _If Looney Lovegood can do it, then I can do it_ , she reassured herself.

"Up!" Alice commanded, frustration seeping into her voice.

Sure enough, the broom did come flying up. It smacked into her hand, cracking her knuckles in the process. As painful as it was, she clenched it tightly, determined to act as if she had the same amount of ease and grace as Looney Lovegood did. After all, she was going to become the greatest witch who ever lived.

She couldn't afford to be beaten by Looney Lovegood, of all people.

"Good job, Alice," Luna said, smiling softly. "You've got a wrackspurt on your nose, did you know?"

"Thanks," Alice said sourly. "I didn't notice it, actually."

"You really should get rid of it…" Luna warned her. "It might start to like you if you don't."


	10. Chapter 10

It was a brisk, chilly morning, as the frost bit into the bones of each and every student of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Bluebell flames lit the Slytherin Common Room, glowing softly and sending shadows dancing across the walls. Alice sat in the corner against the wall, flipping softly through a photo album Amaryllis had sent her a few days prior.

"Holmes, want to join in a game of Exploding Snap?" Janus, a second year, invited her. His eyebrows had been burnt off the day before, causing his each and every expression to be one of surprise.

Dawn, a third year, grinned widely. "Yes, more people for me to beat! Excellent!"

Alice smiled meekly, glancing back down at the photo album. Her mother grinned back at her, wearing one of the absurd hairstyles of the seventies. She had been auditioning for the role of Princess Leia that day, only to be beaten by an unknown actress named Carrie Fisher. Dymphna's face turned to the side, exclaiming with surprise at the sight of Alice's father.

"Come on, Alice!" Edwina begged. "We need a few more players, and if I win this match, I get to play against the champion!"

"You mean _I_ will," Dawn interjected. "Algie's going to face off against me."

"Oi, I've been trying to make it to beat ole Algie ever since I was sorted," Marcus griped, spitting onto the ground. Alice grimaced slightly, watching as the green carpet rug absorbed it within seconds. "You lot aren't up to the task."

"I'll play," Alice stated silently, closing the photo album and setting it aside.

Kate Sanders smirked, picking up a fresh set of cards. The rules to the game were quite simple, yet that tended to bore the Slytherin students. Instead, they chose to play the Bavarian edition. Kate quickly sorted out the cards, dealing them into two separate piles. Once she finished that, she set one pile in the middle, and then organized the other pile into a circle that surrounded it.

"Alright, Bavarian rules, you lot, in case it isn't obvious," Kate announced, puffing out her chest with importance. "And if you're so thick you didn't realize it, you might as well be Goyle."

"Hey!" Goyle grunted, a singular eyebrow lifting slightly in confusion.

Ignoring him, Kate pulled out her wand, a short little thing made of Cedar. She sat it down on the middle and flicked it, causing it to spin around in a circle. It quickly came to a halt, pointing towards Dawn.

"Yes!" Dawn screamed in triumph as Kate removed her wand. She withdrew her own, staring intensely at the middle of the pile.

"Three… two… one… Go!" Kate shouted with glee, her pigtails quivering with excitement.

Dawn instantly began flipping over cards on the outer ring, watching with trepidation as Kate slowly turned over cards from the pile. The cards depicted various magical creatures, and the goal was to find a match by tapping the two matching cards with one's wand. However, a few seconds after a card was turned over…

"Gah, filthy little mudbloods!" Dawn cursed, shaking her hand out. "It exploded on me!"

"That's sort of the point of the game," Kate laughed. "I mean, it's called _Exploding Snap_ for a reason."

Dawn grumbled, tapping a golden Hippogriff card on the outer ring, and then searching for it amongst the remaining cards that had been turned over. She managed to find it and she flicked her wrist delicately, sighing with relief.

"And you now have points!" Edwina giggled, covering her mouth with her hand immediately after she spoke.

"Good job, kid. You're totally going to beat Algie," Marcus teased. He snickered, revealing a missing tooth in his front row. The gap seemed to be turning black, somehow, as if a wall of pus was quickly growing and turning the most foul of colors.

"Shut up," Dawn groaned, tapping the violet fairy card on the inside, only to watch it explode on the outside. "I swear, I'm usually so much better at this game!"

"If you say so…" Alice commented lightly, a mischievous smile sliding onto her face.

Dawn raised her hand in a rather rude gesture—a gesture that featured only one finger in particular. The entire circle broke out snickering, and then with great finesse, the remaining cards burst into little clouds of ash. Dawn's shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Your grand total is…two points!" Kate cheered, tugging a notepad towards her. She jotted down Dawn's name and her score, before placing her wand in the center again and spinning it.

This time, it pointed towards Alice.

"You're up, kid," Kate grinned, dealing out a fresh set of cards. The business plan of the Exploding Snap Company really was phenomenal—the game was beloved, and each time it was played, it could never be used again. Witches and wizards constantly had to buy more and more cards.

"Lovely," Alice sighed, pulling her wand out from inside her cloak. "At least I can't do any worse than Dawn did…"

"Hey!" Dawn protested, stewing with rage. "Someone messed with the cards or something!"

Alice giggled, pretending not to hear her. Kate ignored her as well, counting down slowly for Alice.

"And… go!" Kate announced.

Instantly, Alice's heart rate picked up. Kate slowly turned card after card over in the inner circle, and Alice paused for a moment, contemplating some sort of strategy. Cards would explode after a few moments of being turned over. And once a card in a pair exploded, so would the other one.

 _Maybe I should wait for her to turn over all of the cards on the inside,_ Alice thought, hesitantly reaching for a card on the outer edge. _No, that's silly… Then I'll lose rather lamely._

She bit her lip, and began to slowly turn over cards on the outer edge, perfectly matching Kate's pace. The entire circle fell into hushed silence as people stared at Alice with confusion.

"Kid, you have to go faster than this…" Marcus advised, spitting into the rug once more. "You'll never score any points like this."

Alice ignored him, instead delicately tapping the magenta minotaur, and its matching pair from the inside of the circle.

"Two points!" Kate announced, staring at Alice with bewilderment. "How is this strategy working?"

Alice's first card she selected—a green troll—exploded. Her heart dropped slightly, yet she forced herself to breathe, continuing to match Kate's pace as she turned card after card over. More and more pairs presented themselves—purple dragons, yellow snitches, and orange dwarves.

"Ten points!" Kate announced. "You're actually pretty good at this, kid…"

"Thanks?" Alice questioned, turning over the last card. It depicted a silver vampire, and she tapped it with her hand. She didn't need to know what card Kate had held. All of the other cards had expired, vanishing into flames.

She tapped Kate's final card.

"Twelve points!" Kate whistled, her eyes wide. "You might actually be better than the rest of this trash, kid. What's your name again? Ally?"

"Alice," she corrected, beaming with pride.

Her strategy had worked. As long as she matched Kate's pace, she didn't need to worry about when a card would explode. All cards would explode at the same rate, without one set of cards triggering the death of another far too soon.

Marcus nodded at her. "I've never heard of a Holmes witch or wizard—well, there's that mudblood filth in Gryffindor, but I don't count Thelma…"

Alice bit her lip, instantly feeling queasy. "Is that supposed to be a bad thing?"

He shrugged, frowning slightly. "You're pureblood, right?"

She didn't hesitate. "'Course. I'm from the Blackstone family, just got saddled with a common last name from my dad."

"And he was a wizard?" Marcus pressed, a frown etched deeply onto his face.

 _He doesn't believe me,_ Alice realized, her eyes widening with panic. She wanted very little else than to run away and puke, to avoid the shattering consequences of losing her small safety net at Hogwarts.

"Honestly…" Alice began, regaining her wits slowly. "Do you think I would have been sorted here if he wasn't?"

She paused, staring at Marcus anxiously. Slytherin house, while dedicated to ambition and cunning, had a definite hatred of anything to do with muggles. In a way, Alice could understand it. Everyone in the school terrorized them, claiming them to be nothing more than monstrous villains.

Even she had begun to play into the part of the Slytherin student, a transformation she was uncertain would have occurred had she been placed into a different house. She no longer was kind nor sweet—she was ruthless and harsh to anyone who didn't wear the green tie.

"You're right," Marcus nodded. "What houses were your parents in?"

"My parents attended W.A.D.A., actually," Alice laughed bitterly. "My mom's dreadful at magic, and my dad is mostly the same."

Edwina nodded sympathetically. "I know what that's like, it's so irritating… We're supposed to be better than the others, and then we have people like that Marie Nicholas who excel without even being pureblood!"

Bronwyn's quiet, steady voice chimed in. "Get used to it. We may be better, but it isn't just because of our blood."

Marcus wiggled an eyebrow at her. "Do you honestly believe that, Bronwyn?"

Bronwyn gazed at him, her face solid and serious. Then, a minute later, she broke out into a wild grin, laughing hysterically. "Sorry, it was too hard to keep a straight face!"

The rest of the Slytherin Common Room roared with laughter, and Alice uncomfortably joined in. Her father being a muggle would have to remain a secret.

 _Maybe they'll be allowed to know when I'm dead,_ Alice mused as Draco wandered over, telling a hilarious joke about three muggles, a wizard, and a lightbulb.

* * *

Halloween came by quicker than Alice had anticipated. In Charms and Transfiguration, they were finally casting actual spells. The effects were dismal and minimal at best, yet she had quickly risen to the top of the class, mostly due to her practice sessions in the Girls' Bathroom. And to her good fortune, she learned the ghost's name was Myrtle, and that it was fairly easy to ignore her by just plugging her ears before entering the room.

Defense Against the Dark Arts, however, was a living hell. Lockhart knew nothing of anything, and his teaching consisted of standing at the front, lecturing about his fantastic accomplishments. She sat next to Ginny Weasley in that course, and the two of them had become unlikely friends due to their shared annoyance with Lockhart. On any other action, the pair would have been sworn enemies.

Instead, they teamed up in moving all of Lockhart's portraits just an inch to the left, along with the rest of the furniture in the classroom. It had been a few weeks, and he still had yet to notice, continuing to trip and flail his way about through the room like a blind child.

Potions was the easiest of her subjects, given that Professor Snape tended to put extra effort into teaching the Slytherins. Whenever she forgot her homework in the Slytherin Common Room, he allowed her to fetch it for full credit. Had a Gryffindor made that request, they would have been given detention.

The other classes hardly had anything noteworthy go on in them. Astronomy resulted in most of her classmates falling asleep, while she pretended to notice planets and stars from her telescope, rather than a million different little smudges. History of Magic would have been enjoyable, had the teacher not been attempting to bore them to death, cursing them to join him in an eternal land of suffering. And Herbology disgusted her, to the point that she looked forward to when she could drop the subject.

They hadn't even learned anything decent, such as which plants could be used as poisons. She didn't care very much about what types of mushrooms were decent for energy drinks.

Of course, Alice was extremely grateful that it was a Saturday, and that she didn't have to spend her time with dumpy little Professor Sprout or arrogant pretty-boy Lockhart. It was rather strange that each student dressed normally, without the usual costumes that she had grown up with. Her mother's favorite holiday was Halloween, and each year, they would dress in some sort of theme.

Alice adored being Wednesday from _the Addams Family,_ but more often than not, she was dressed for her namesake: _Alice in Wonderland._

"There's a feast," Edwina commented. She was lying down on her bed, staring up towards the ceiling as she bounced her ball in the air slowly. Each time, she allowed it to go higher and higher, until it hit the ceiling as well.

"Would you please be quiet?" Gayle requested, picking up her book and stalking out of the room in anger.

Edwina merely shrugged. "Do you have any idea what her problem is?"

Alice shook her head. She had gotten to know Edwina and Margo quite well, yet Gayle—and Armelle for that matter—had remained mysteries. The two of them tended to go off and do their own things, neither of them ever raising their voices above a whisper. It had been unsettling at first, as the two of them would almost sulk in the shadows, glaring at Alice and her friends.

 _Maybe they're assassins,_ Alice pondered.

"I think she hates you," Alice said, closing the sixth issue of _the Adventures of Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle._ Amaryllis had sent her the set the week she arrived at Hogwarts, and the moving graphics were superb.

"I think so too," Margo added, giggling. "Gayle and Armelle are plotting to kill you, Eddie."

Edwina huffed, blowing a piece of her hair out of her eyes. "Honestly, those two should just suck it up and like us already. They're just wasting everyone's time. Think of everything the five of us could have accomplished by now!"

"Yeah, we could have procrastinated on not only Charms, but Transfiguration too!" Alice teased, making her eyes as wide as she possibly could. "What a fantastic idea!"

Margo rolled over, falling off her bed with a thud. She remained on the floor, as if she had done that intentionally.

"Margo, are you alright? You're acting like a Hufflepuff," Edwina snickered. "They're a load of idiots, the lot of them."

Marie came to Alice's mind, and she opened her mouth to protest, yet quickly changed her mind. It wasn't a battle that was worth fighting. _And maybe Marie's just abnormally smart for a Hufflepuff,_ Alice told herself. _Everyone could still be right about the rest of them. They could all be stupid._

"I'm fine," Margo groaned, slowly bringing herself to her feet. "But I'm hungry enough to eat a hippogriff—can we go to the feast now?"

"It isn't starting for a few more minutes," Alice murmured, staring up at the ceiling dejectedly. A pit had formed in her stomach rapidly, and the discomfort appalled her.

"We might as well try to avoid the lines," Edwina pointed out, before hesitating. "What's wrong you with, Al?"

"Nothing," Alice grumbled, rolling over and coming to her feet. "Nothing at all."

Edwina frowned, throwing a skeptical glance over at Margo. "Then let's go. I'm famished."

* * *

A band of skeletons performed at the feast, with the best sort of theatrics. The performance caused a wave of homesickness to wash over Alice, yet she enjoyed it just as much. It was the first quality performance she had seen in ages.

"I wish I could get a CD of this," Alice sighed. "This music is fantastic."

"A what?" Edwina frowned.

"Nothing, forget I said anything," Alice mumbled quickly, her cheeks turning bright red. A pureblood had no reason to know anything about CDs. And although she wasn't muggleborn, her status as a halfblood, the child of a woman who was practically a squib and a muggle, didn't seem to be safe either. She needed to be accepted, no matter what it took.

"You're weird," Edwina laughed.

Alice grinned, taking another bite of her crème brûleé. The caramel sweetness of it spread through her mouth, and she closed her eyes, blissfully content. The next thing she knew, however, Draco came sprinting into the Great Hall, dashing over towards her.

"Alice, you've got to come see it!" Draco grinned.

Alice frowned a bit. Some of the students had already left the feast, with mostly the first years staying behind, entranced by the tunes of the skeleton band. "What is…it?"

"The Chamber of Secrets!" Draco explained, grabbing her hand and tearing her away from the table.

"The Chamber of _what_?" Alice questioned, her eyebrows furrowed as Draco practically yanked her arm out of her socket.

He ignored her question, running out of the hall, dragging her behind him. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Margo and Edwina run after her in glee. They reached the spiral staircase quickly, and Draco didn't even pause to allow her to catch her breath, instead racing farther and farther ahead.

"Are we… Are we going to Myrtle's bathroom?" Alice stammered, panting. She wasn't exactly physically fit.

"Better than that!" Draco laughed as they turned the corner. A small crowd was pressing around a grotesque scene, as blood shimmered on the wall.

"Look at it, Alice!" Draco shouted. "Isn't it wonderful?"

 _The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir, beware._ The letters gleamed a horrible scarlet, reflected by a pool of water beneath them. And there, hanging on the wall, was the caretaker's cat.

"What's… What's this mean?" Alice asked breathlessly.

Draco's smile turned cruel, as he smirked at his friend. "It means that everyone with dirty blood in this school is going to be purged—no more mudbloods, no more blood traitors, they'll all be gone…"

Alice gulped slightly, glancing back at the writing on the wall as Draco finished his sentence simply.

"They'll all be dead!" he shouted, smiling wickedly with glee. "Isn't that fantastic, Alice?"


	11. Chapter 11

Professor Lockhart set his book down, finishing his droning for the day. "And that, children, is how I saved the President of the United States of America from being eaten by a werewolf."

No one moved a muscle or said a word. In the corner of a room, a fly buzzed and flew into the window, limply landing on the floor, twitching with its death spasms. Edwina was fast asleep, while Margo delicately sketched out drawings for the comic book she was creating. Ginny had crawled underneath the desk slowly throughout the class period, attempting to see when Lockhart had noticed.

She was currently crawling towards the door, dragging her bag behind her noisily, and he hadn't paid her the least bit of attention. Even the hundreds of portraits of him were all ignorant, gazing into images of themselves affectionately.

"Isn't that beautiful, children, how the power of love can save the day?" Lockhart sighed, flashing them a signature smile. "Colin, tell me—what are you passionate about?"

"Harry Potter," Harper muttered, kicking Colin from underneath the table.

Colin yelped and the rest of the room erupted into sleepy laughter. Colin carried around a camera with him at all times, taking pictures of the most absurd things. Alice considered herself to be fortunate that he wasn't aware that her parents were Edmund Holmes and Dymphna Blackstone. She had seen the way he pursued Harry Potter. It appeared hellish.

"Now, now, leave him alone," Lockhart instructed, standing up with a flourish as his golden cape whipped around him. "It's hard to handle ourselves around celebrities—I'm sure you all still have problems concentrating in my class. But, Colin, please tell me—what are you passionate about?"

Colin's face was a bright shade of red, and he glanced down at his camera for a moment, before looking back up at Lockhart. "Well, I like photography…"

"Excellent!" Lockhart smiled. "Let's see, let's see… Ginny Weasley, yes! What are you passionate about?"

Alice glanced over to Ginny. She had made her way almost to the door, and Lockhart hadn't moved his eyes from one of his many portraits. He had no clue where she was.

"I'm passionate about you, professor," Ginny answered, her face twisted with pride and confusion.

Lockhart laughed vicariously, sweeping his bangs over to the other side. "Right you are, Miss Weasley!"

Ginny shrugged from her position on the floor, and tempting fate, she rose to her feet, opened the door to the classroom, and left. Alice covered her hand with her mouth, attempting not to snicker.

Lockhart was entirely clueless. "Something you'd like to share with the class, Miss Holmes?"

"No," Alice answered quickly, her eyes darting towards the door. It opened once more, and Ginny's hand reached in, quickly grabbing a diary that had fallen out from her back. The diary slid across the floor, and then the door was slammed shut once more.

Lockhart didn't even blink. "If it really is as funny as it seems, Miss Holmes, then certainly you should share it with the class!"

Alice shrank down in her seat, biting her tongue. However, a moment of inspiration struck her. "It's about your story, professor—how you saved the President of the United States."

"Yes, Alice? What about it? Did you find it frightening? It's completely understandable if you did…" Lockhart trailed off, a thick smile plastered onto his face. His eyes were steely, little pinpricks of ice.

"You said that you saved President Buchanan, professor," Alice squeaked.

"I did," Lockhart nodded, sweeping into a slight bow. "What about it?"

"President Buchanan died about a century ago, professor," Alice explained. "So… So you couldn't have saved him from a werewolf, professor."

Lockhart's face froze, and the already quiet class dropped into further silence. Feeling as if she had made some grave transgression, Alice shrank even further into her seat, regretting her knowledge of America.

 _It's not my fault Dad played Buchanan in a film last year,_ Alice pouted. _He wasn't even that good at it, either._

"Miss Holmes, do you realize who your professor is?" Lockhart asked, his smile widening mechanically, as if the movement of each individual muscle was some great effort.

"Yes, sir…" Alice frowned. "I'd be rather stupid if I didn't…sir."

Lockhart chuckled dryly, more sounding like he was attempting to dislodge something from his throat than genuine laughter. "And tell me, who is your professor?"

 _He's a pompous fool,_ Alice thought. Instead, she bit her tongue, watching as Lockhart unraveled himself. He didn't need her help to be pushed off of the deep end. However, she did regret not fleeing the room with Ginny. As much as she and Ginny fought outside of this class, they had a certain kinship within these glamorized walls.

"Miss Holmes, I can see that you're regretting your actions," Lockhart stated, walking on the perimeter of the classroom. "I doubt you're old enough to know much of America, but I can assure, President Buchanan is very much alive. He just recently served his term, in fact, and he gave me the highest honor known to the Americans."

"What was it, professor?" Colin asked eagerly, regaining some of his vigor.

"It is called the Super Size, my dear boy," Lockhart grinned. "Only the very best are allowed to obtain this high honor, and naturally, I happened to be one of the best. Of course, I was very humble when I accepted the award, insisted that they give it to some starving orphan instead of me…"

 _Isn't that a… food portion size?_ Alice frowned, though she didn't dare to contradict her teacher. It was like arguing with a brick wall. At the end, the only result would be that she would be immensely frustrated, and he would be as idiotic as ever.

"Sir, on a completely unrelated subject, were you a Hufflepuff?" Edwina asked, gazing pointedly towards Alice.

She had developed this theory that all of the other houses were garbage disposals, of sorts, for those who couldn't make it in Slytherin. Ravenclaw was where all of the boring people went—those who had potential, but instead decided to do silly things such as cure Dragon Pox. Gryffindor was the home for those who were too stupid to prevent themselves from dying. And Hufflepuff was the home for those who were boring, stupid, and easy to manipulate.

The entire notion made Alice uncomfortable, yet most of Slytherin house seemed to agree with Edwina's line of reasoning. Each day, it seemed as if the divide between them and the other houses increased more and more, until the anger the other houses felt towards Slytherin was entirely justifiable.

"I was in Ravenclaw, actually," Lockhart corrected. "Home of the intelligence and wise, as you are aware."

Edwina's face fell, seeing her entire system shattered to pieces in front of her. Alice, however, smirked. It did confuse her that Lockhart would ever be sorted into Ravenclaw, but at least Edwina's discriminatory notion hadn't been upheld this time.

"But don't you worry, children," Lockhart mused. "I won't hold it against you that you were sorted into the other houses—I'm sure you'll all grow up to be decent… Though you most certainly won't be saving President Buchanan!"

He laughed, and waved his wand, causing the door to open and slam closed. He blinked at it in surprise. "Well, I suppose you can just let yourselves out then… I want a summary of _Voyages with Vampires_ by tomorrow. No less than five feet of parchment—ten feet for you, Mr. Creevey, your handwriting is _far_ too large to be fair to the other students."

The chairs scraped against the floor in a glorious symphony as everyone rose to their feet. Margo busily shoved her books and paper back into her bag, while Edwina stepped up towards Professor Lockhart tentatively. Alice frowned, wondering what Edwina possibly had to say to that clown.

 _Well, he was right about one thing—we won't be saving President Buchanan_ , Alice joked to herself. _He's definitely dead._

Alice slung her book bag over her shoulder, before walking up to join Edwina. Edwina brushed her hair back, and Lockhart turned around with a plastic grin, devoting his full attention to her.

"What can I help you with, Miss Fawley?"

"You know so much, professor, I thought I might ask you a question," Edwina pressed, putting on her sweetest smile.

"Anything for my top student," Lockhart chuckled. "What is your question?"

"Do you know anything about the Chamber of Secrets, sir? I'm sure you must have, in one of your many travels," Edwina questioned, throwing in an ample amount of flattery.

Lockhart paused, rocking back on his feet. Alice could practically see the gears grinding in his head. Most likely, every teacher at Hogwarts knew very well what the Chamber of Secrets was. Draco had explained that it meant each person of filthy blood was doomed to die—yet he hadn't known anything beyond that.

For all Alice, Edwina, and Margo knew, a giant marshmallow would swallow each person to the theme song for _I Love Lucy_.

"I do know something about it," Lockhart murmured, letting his vanity win over his common sense. "According to legend, a monster was hidden inside of the school, prepared to drink the blood of anyone who it deemed unworthy…"

Edwina frowned, sharing a skeptical glance with Alice. "Are you sure about that, professor? That seems…wrong."

 _Well, he doesn't have any credibility to start with,_ Alice reasoned. She still wasn't quite sure why Edwina had chosen to ask him of all people. Professor Snape was more likely to know the right answer and to inform them of it. He loved his Slytherins.

"It's most certainly the truth, Miss Fawley," Lockhart nodded, his face painted with false pain and sadness. "But not to worry—when the monster appears, I shall prove ample to face it."

"Just like you saved President Buchanan," Edwina said slyly.

"Precisely!" Lockhart replied. "Do you have any other questions, Miss Fawley?"

Edwina hesitated, before shaking her head. "None that I think you're qualified to answer, professor. We'll be seeing you on Wednesday for the next lesson, then."

Lockhart chuckled, before sweeping into a bow. He turned his back on them quickly, walking over towards his desk. A huge stack of letters, the majority of them lilac, spilled all over his desk.

"I can't believe people can be a fan of him," Margo muttered, joining the pair of them at the door.

"Trust me, people can be fans of a lot of stupid people," Alice whispered. "I know all about it."

* * *

Alice left the Slytherin Common Room late that afternoon, when November was halfway wasted, and headed towards Myrtle's bathroom. She hadn't told Edwina or Margo about her practice area, instead enjoying having one space where she didn't have to pretend about anything.

Today, though, rather than practice spells, she had a letter from her father to read. From the thickness of the envelope, she could tell that there was something inside of it. By the chance that it might be something only muggles would possess, she had decided to read it in the relative privacy of Myrtle's bathroom. No one ever went there. It was perfect.

"You're back, I see," Myrtle sniffed. "Here to make fun of me?"

"I've never made fun of you," Alice muttered, rolling her eyes. "Can you try to stop flooding the place? It's getting annoying."

"Nope!" Myrtle squeaked, crossing her arms as she flew up towards the ceiling of the bathroom.

Alice didn't mind it when Myrtle was up high, as far away from her as possible. She went to the last stall in the restroom and sat the lid down, using it as a seat on which she could read. Opening the letter, she found that her suspicions were partially correct.

Two all access passes to the Golden Globes were inside. Her eyes widened, reading the date they were marked for—January 23rd, 1993. They were just a little more than a two months away.

Giddy with excitement and fear, she pulled up the letter from her father. It read:

 _Dear Alice,_

 _I hope everything is going well at Hogwarts. I cannot wait to see you over the holidays. Anyways, I've been nominated for a Golden Globe. I'd love for you to attend, and my agent wants you to bring a young man with you for publicity reasons. Pick any of the lads at your school._

 _Let me know by Christmas who you'll be bringing. We'll need to get them an appropriate outfit._

 _Don't scare the other children,_

 _Dad_

Alice chuckled a bit, yet then she paled. There wasn't anyone whom she could ask to come with her, was there? But of course, if her father's agent said she needed to bring a male friend with her, then she would have to. There'd be no arguing about it.

 _I could ask Draco,_ Alice considered. He wouldn't know that her father was a muggle. In fact, she would explain that given that it was a muggle event, they wouldn't be using an magic. He'd understand the need to take jobs in both the muggle world and the magical world.

 _Maybe he'll even think it's cool—taking advantage of magic like that,_ Alice pondered. Her mother certainly did do that on a daily basis, and everyone in Slytherin was under the impression her parents were simply awful at magic. She could also tell Draco she had made her father promise not to do any magic, in order to not embarrass her.

It was either him or Colin Creevey, she realized with a shudder. The choice was an easy one, then. All she'd have to do would be to convince Draco to—

 _Wait… What was that?_

Alice froze, and delicately, she pulled the stall door in towards her and brought her knees to her chest. No one would be able to spot her, had someone decided to actually visit the restroom. She strained her hearing, and she could hear approximately three people enter, their feet splashing around in the water.

"We'll brew it in here, then," a female voice, loud and confident, said. "No one ever goes in this bathroom anyways."

"But Hermione…It's the _girls'_ bathroom," a male voice whined. "What if we get caught?"

"We won't," Hermione said. "Trust me—I know exactly what we're doing. Myrtle is perfectly pleasant as well, and the potion will be able to brew safely in here."

"How long is this going to take, exactly?" a third voice chimed in.

There was more splashing. A stall door creaked open, and Alice held her breath, desperate not to be caught. As far as she could tell, Harry, Hermione, and Ron were in the bathroom. Those three had a reputation among Slytherin house. She'd been warned about them.

"A month," Hermione answered quickly. "It'll be safe here—the only risky part is getting the ingredients we're going to need."

"Please tell me they aren't anything illegal," the whiny voice—Ron's—whimpered. "Mum'll kill me if I get into anymore trouble."

Hermione scoffed a bit. "Honestly, Ronald, your mother wouldn't actually kill you. But this will be breaking a lot of school rules—it isn't easy to brew Polyjuice Potion either."

 _Polyjuice Potion?_ Alice wondered, her eyes widening. Her mother kept a batch of it on her at home, though it was locked away, and Alice was forbidden to even touch it. The wizarding theatre productions she starred in tended to use it for stunt doubles, as well as for twins and cases of mistaken identity.

Somehow, Alice didn't think Harry, Hermione, and Ron were using it for a play.

"But we need to know what Malfoy's up to," Harry insisted. "He matches all of the criteria—he's the heir of Slytherin!"

"It's true," Ron sighed. "Well, as long as I get half of your gold when Mum disowns me, Harry, then I'm in."

Alice had to stifle a laugh.

"Hermione… Did you hear that?" Harry asked, tension creeping into his voice.

"It's just the pipes," Hermione explained. "Like I said, no one ever goes in here. I can come in and check on the potion as much as I need to, and no one is going to touch it. It's the only way we can make this work."

There was a pause.

"Alright, then. Let's do this," Harry responded.

More splashing occurred, and then the door slammed. Once again, Alice was alone in the girls' bathroom—well, with the exception of Myrtle.

Slowly, Alice began to relax. She shoved the letter from her father and the passes into the pocket of her cloak, and she left the stall, peeking out slowly first to ensure that everyone had left.

"You're going to do something, aren't you?" Myrtle commented, floating down from her spot up by the ceiling. "I can tell."

"Whatever," Alice muttered. "Maybe I am going to do something—it's none of your business."

"You're in my bathroom," Myrtle pointed out. "I can do whatever I like—teehee!"

She squealed, doing a few loops in the air, before vanishing once again from sight. Alice bit her lip, glancing at the stall in question where Hermione had been explaining her plan to Ron and Harry. Somehow, Alice had a feeling that having some of that potion would come in handy this year.

It may even just save her life.


	12. Chapter 12

All of Slytherin house crammed their way into the Common Room, pushing and shoving to get towards the middle. In the first match of the season, Ravenclaw had lost sorely to Hufflepuff. Hufflepuff's legendary seeker, Ella Thompson, could not be beat. Already in her sixth year, three separate professional Quidditch teams had approached her, offering her a hefty starting salary.

Today, Slytherin would face off against Gryffindor in the first match of the season. And already, the older students in Slytherin had been assisting Marcus Flint, the Quidditch Captain, in running the potential numbers for strategy.

"Alright, so Hufflepuff has one hundred seventy points," Marcus murmured.

Bronwyn flicked her wand and muttered a charm, causing the piece of paper they had poured over to float into the air, in plain view of everyone in the Common Room. She smirked with pride, already changed into her own Quidditch uniform. Pucey was lying in the Hospital Wing, after having picked a fight with three Gryffindor seventh years.

Somehow, he expected that he would have been able to take them all on at once. And consequently, Bronwyn would be filling in for him as a chaser.

"And Ravenclaw only has ten," Marcus grinned, revealing the gaping hole in his mouth. "Assuming we win this match, then when Gryffindor plays Ravenclaw, we can cheer for either team. If we lose, then we want Ravenclaw to win the next match."

Everyone nodded in agreement, though Alice raised an eyebrow at the entire affair. It seemed a little peculiar for an entire house to come together, merely to discuss which house to support in an upcoming match. _I guess this is what insane people do,_ Alice speculated.

"The next match after that is Hufflepuff against us—obviously, we want us to win," Marcus chuckled coldly. "Draco, if you don't beat Thompson, then I won't care what your father can buy for us—understood? You'll be off the team, and Bronwyn will take your place."

Draco's face whitened slightly. "You wouldn't dare! My father practically owns this school!"

Marcus shook his head, completely void of any sympathy. "You've got money, Malfoy—but you also need talent. You better not mess up today, as well… If we lose this match, then we might lose the House Cup as well. And I'm sure you wouldn't want that, hmm?"

Draco's face grew even paler, and he gulped nervously. "I'm _not_ going to lose, Flint. Potter flies like a girl."

"You better hope he does," Marcus said, sporting a wicked smirk. "After that match, it'll be Gryffindor against Hufflepuff—if we beat Gryffindor, then we'll want a Gryffindor victory. We do _not_ want any of those stupid _badgers_ to get anymore points."

Everyone nodded in agreement.

"We'll finish up the year playing Ravenclaw—hopefully, the Cup will already be ours," Marcus concluded. He punched his fist against his chest three times, as if trying to increase the rate at which his blood was pumped and dispersed throughout his body.

"Let's go Slytherin!" Bronwyn cheered, waving her wand once more.

The battle plan rolled up and dropped neatly onto the table, and in an instant, all of the Slytherins left the Common Room. Some of them returned to their dormitories, searching for their scarves and gloves, while others headed out towards the Quidditch pitch, prepared to cheer on their team towards a most certain victory.

Alice followed Margo and Edwina back into the dormitory. Armelle, in a rare moment of openness, had volunteered to paint little snakes onto their cheeks. Her brother had given her the paint, and similar to the spell that animated photographs, it would animate the designs.

"You first, Alice," Armelle beckoned, motioning towards the impromptu beauty area she had set up in the corner.

Alice sat down into the corner, tugging delicately on her braids. She enjoyed having makeup and the likes but put on her, but in a way, it was strange. The last time someone messed around with her face, she was starring in a horror film alongside her father, and it had been fake blood.

"Hold still," Armelle commanded, as she dipped a paintbrush into the cosmetic, and began to draw onto her cheek. The paint tingled and tickled, as if some sort of searing chemical was being sent straight into her skin.

"There, done," Armelle grinned. "I'm getting really quick at doing these."

Armelle handed a mirror to Alice, and she glanced inside the looking glass in surprise. An emerald serpent with a ruby red tongue adorned her cheek, and it slowly moved, slithering and flashing its tongue with pride. A wave of nostalgia washed over her, as the snake slithered from her cheek, onto her nose, and up towards her forehead.

"You should give it a name!" Edwina insisted, placing her hair into buns. "Tell me, how do I look?"

"You look like Princess Leia," Alice snorted.

Edwina frowned, pausing as she placed the second bun on the side of her head. "Princess who? Is she American or something?"

"Oh, she's from… Well, there's this country called Alderaan," Alice explained, holding back her laughter.

"Where is it?" Margo asked, tilting her head. Her hair had been braided into a thousand tiny braids, and they wished as they moved.

"It's gone," Alice stated simply. "It was blown off the map."

"Wow," Edwina whistled. "That must have been some powerful magic…"

Alice shook with laughter, hardly able to hold it back. Normally, her occasional references to muggle pop culture left her paralyzed with fear. On this occasion, however, it worked out for her merriment.

"It really was," Alice commented. "A bunch of dark wizards called the Sith destroyed it—I think Princess Leia ended up marrying some sort of smuggler."

Armelle grimaced with concern, before motioning for Margo to take the seat next. Gayle was nowhere to be found. Hardly any of them could recall what her voice sounded like, and had she gone missing, it would have been ages before they noticed. For all they knew, they had imagined her entire existence, and there only were four Slytherin first year girls, not five.

"That sounds awful," Margo sighed, as Armelle painted the crest onto her cheek.

Alice nodded, gazing out of the window. The rain lessened from its early downpour, now a soft drizzle. In less than an hour, Slytherin would battle Gryffindor on the Quidditch pitch. As much as she adored her house, part of her felt uncomfortable, and uncertain. Earlier that week, they had been asked to send hexes at any Gryffindor Quidditch team members they saw in the corridors.

 _Is it right to win like that?_ Alice pondered as she put her Slytherin beanie on her head, pulling it snug and enjoying the warmth of it. Of course, she was highly competitive, and with her ultimate goal of achieving greatness, rules had to be broken.

 _But what rules do we follow?_ She wondered, watching as Edwina had a seven headed snake painted onto her cheek—one head for each member of their Quidditch team.

"You all look great," Armelle sighed, utterly content. "Now, never talk to me again, and get out of my sight."

* * *

Alice, Edwina, and Margo found seats in the stands unfortunately close to the pitch, but that was to be expected. All of the older students had already arrived, choosing the higher up stands closer to the action.

"Have you ever seen a Quidditch match before?" Edwina asked, smiling wide with glee. "I love them—especially the bludgers! They're the best part!"

"Of course we've seen a Quidditch match before," Margo answered, rolling her eyes. "What do you think we are, mudbloods?"

Edwina snickered, and Margo joined in with the laughter. Alice fixedly stared ahead, watching as both teams flew out onto the pitch. Half of the school animated into cheers and sported red banners, whilst the other half carried green banners.

"I'm surprised other houses actually support us," Alice commented, watching as two Hufflepuffs were sporting green and silver, rather than maroon and gold.

"Well, they know that we're going to win," Edwina sniffed, still sporting Princess Leia buns without even realizing it. "It's only natural that they want to cheer for a winner."

Alice laughed lightly, watching as Marcus landed on the pitch near Madam Hooch. A lanky boy from Gryffindor came to meet him, and Alice couldn't make out very many of his features. None of them had omnioculars, or anything to magnify the actions at all.

Fortunately, they had Lee Jordan.

"Welcome, one and all, to the first match of the year where we all know who is going to win—am I right, folks?" Lee encouraged, practically screaming into the microphone.

Instantly, all of Slytherin erupted into boos.

"I'm only joking, professor! Honestly! Maybe Slytherin will stand a chance, or maybe they'll be too busy trying to learn how to fly in the first place! Who knows!" Lee hurriedly added.

Alice frowned, a brief moment of hatred swelling up inside of her. It wasn't her fault that everyone hated Slytherin—and as far as she was aware, they hadn't done anything to deserve it. The feud had no sense behind it, and the actions of the other houses only perpetuated it. _Maybe I should have hexed Harry Potter when I saw him a few days ago,_ Alice pondered.

"Anyways, the captains—Marcus Flint and Oliver Wood—are shaking hands on the field. Yes, yes, very civil. We all know Marcus isn't trying to break Wood's hand or anything…Sorry, professor, I'm an agent of the truth! I have to call it as I see it—professor!" Lee said, wrestling for his microphone and causing an enormous amount of feedback to echo throughout the pitch.

Edwina grumbled, cursing slightly under her breath. "Couldn't they have gotten someone less biased to do the commentary?"

"Everyone here is bias," Alice frowned, the hatred swelling up inside of her like a balloon. "They're all idiots."

Margo nodded in agreement, pulling on one of her many braids. "I hope we crush them today."

"Who, Gryffindor?" Alice joked.

"Doesn't matter," Margo replied, glaring down at the pitch. "They all bloody deserve it. They're nothing but awful to us. I mean, they _booed_ at us when we were sorted!"

Edwina nodded, pulling Margo into a brief hug. "They'll get what's coming to them eventually. Trust me. I'll ensure it myself if I have to."

Alice smiled uneasily, though her attention was quickly diverted. Dimly, she could see Madam Hooch release the bludgers and the golden snitch. Oliver Wood and Marcus Flint each mounted their broomsticks once more, and Madam Hooch grabbed for her whistle.

"The quaffle is released…and the game begins!" Lee announced excitedly, jumping up and hitting the microphone once more, sending yet another wave of feedback throughout the stands. "Terribly sorry about that, professor, I promise it won't happen again!"

Alice craned her neck, watching as one of the figures in green grabbed the quaffle. Two figures clad in red followed after them, flanking them on each and every side.

"Bronwyn Adley swoops in and grabs the quaffle, only to be followed by Spinnet and Johnson! Might I say, I've never seen a lovelier group of ladies—and a troll! I mean, have you _seen_ Adley in the morning, folks?"

The opposite end of the pitch erupted into laughter, as all of the Gryffindor supporters ate up Lee Jordan's comments. Alice instead frowned deeply, watching on as Bronwyn zipped expertly through the brigade of Gryffindor chasers, making it all the way to the hoops.

"She isn't ugly at all," Alice muttered under her breath.

Bronwyn swerved and tossed the quaffle, and it easily sailed through the hoop. Alice, Margo, and Edwina jumped into the air, pumping their fists and screaming in ecstasy.

"Slytherin scores the first points of the game…Not like it matters…" Lee Jordan droned, his voice suddenly cold and sullen.

Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor Keeper, caught the quaffle on the other side of the goalpost. He tossed it back towards the middle, only to have it be intercepted once again—by Bronwyn. Alice's eyes widened, for a brief moment contemplating why Bronwyn was only a reserve.

However, just as Bronwyn made her way towards the scoring line once more, she noticed something even more alarming. A bludger was following Harry Potter. With avid curiosity, she watched him as he swerved and dived, fleeing towards the safety of the Gryffindor beaters.

The bludger was knocked away by their bats—and then…

"It keeps going after him!" Alice exclaimed, sending a quick glance over towards Edwina and Margo. "You don't think… You don't think we jinxed the bludgers, right?"

Edwina furrowed her eyebrows. "Well… They are supposed to check bludgers before every match, so I doubt it—not that I'd have much sympathy for Potter if we did."

 _This is wrong,_ Alice decided, her stomach quickly flooding with guilt and remorse. Instantly, her hatred vanished, replaced by regret and sympathy. Had she been Harry, she would have been furious and enraged. It would only cause matters to worsen between the houses.

 _Besides, we're better than this_ , Alice decided. _We don't need to cheat to win—we can do it by pure skill._

"And there goes Adley again, proving that you can either have looks or talent… Slytherin now has forty points, and Gryffindor has… Professor, do I really have to remind everyone we have no points? I think everyone's quite aware!" Lee complained, moaning practically as Bronwyn scored yet another goal.

Edwina smirked, yet Alice watched on with fear as the bludger continued to target Harry ruthlessly. The tiniest green figure—Draco—caught notice of it as well. Alice watched with trepidation as Draco zoomed over towards Harry, and from what she knew of him, he was mocking him for sure.

 _Come on, please don't be responsible for this,_ Alice thought, biting her lip as the bludger completely ignored Draco, continuing to rush at Harry. In an ideal game of Quidditch, every player would be targeted equally.

It was unheard of for a bludger to target a singular person without any sort of tampering.

"They should stop the match," Alice whispered.

"Why?" Edwina asked, her eyes wide and startled. "We're winning, Alice! Can't you see, or are you blind?"

"This isn't right," Alice muttered, unable to tear her eyes away from the scene unfolding before her. She hardly noticed as Bronwyn threw the quaffle towards Montague, and together, the pair of them scored another ten points for their house.

She was fixated on the Boy Who Lived. Harry dove towards the ground, his arm out stretched, and yet the bludger continued to follow him, rather than chase after the stationary Draco. Even Lee Jordan had set the insults aside, noticing the absurdity of it all.

"Man, this bludger is so in love with Harry Potter, it might be Colin Creevey!" Lee Jordan joked, and Alice couldn't help but smile at it.

"He's so right," Edwina snickered. "That kid is obsessed. It can't be healthy."

Alice shook her head, watching as Potter pulled up, zooming at Draco as if on the attack. She bit her lip, ignoring Bronwyn and Montague as they scored once again. Draco swerved out of the way, dodging Harry's charge, and in a moment, Harry had fallen towards the ground.

His arm lay limp to his side, though something peculiar glowed in his hand.

"AND HE'S DONE IT!" Lee cheered. "POTTER'S CAUGHT THE SNITCH! And, erm, someone might want to go look at his arm… It seems to be broken…or something."

Alice's heart fell, yet at the same time, it felt justified. They didn't deserve a victory through cheating—they deserved it through talent and through skill. Their ambition didn't need to resort to those sort of activities.

"Oh dear god, I think Lockhart's going out there!" Edwina whispered with mortified fascination. "He'll kill him!"

Alice gulped slightly, her eyes widening. "Is that legal, to have Lockhart tend to someone?"

Margo shook her head. "I'm pretty sure it isn't—you have to pass all sorts of exams to be a MediWizard, and I doubt he can do much beyond spell his name…"

The three of them laughed nervously.

"I mean," Alice paused. "What's the worst Lockhart can do? Remove all the bones in his arm? Even he couldn't be that stupid..."


	13. Chapter 13

Alice blinked, stifling back a yawn as she entered the History of Magic Classroom. Professor Binns had been teaching for what seemed to be a century, and very quickly, she found herself beginning to detest the subject. However, a peculiar young lad with a green bowler cap and tasseled blonde locks stood at the front of the room, rocking back and forth on his heels.

She frowned slightly, sliding into her seat. Edwina was in the Hospital Wing, as she hadn't managed to go more than thirty minutes without puking since Defense Against the Dark Arts the previous day. Margo was convinced that Lockhart's teacher had been the cause of it, while Edwina herself insisted that a Gryffindor had put something nasty in her food at breakfast.

Slowly, the rest of the students filtered into the classroom. Margo took the seat to Alice's right, while Marie took her seat on the left. And slowly, Professor Binns floated into the room, moving through the wall without any consequence, as if he still didn't realize he had died some time ago.

"Good day, students," Professor Binns announced drearily. "Today, we have a guest teacher—please put your hands together for Mr. Liam Garter from the Magical Artifact Preservation Society."

The towheaded boy bowed, a crooked smile gracing his face. His hat fell forward, obscuring the upper half of his face from sight. A moment later though, Mr. Garter raised his head once more, before maneuvering his way towards the center of the room, allowing everyone to see him properly.

"Yes, yes, I am Mr. Garter—but please, call me Liam," he said with a grimace. "It's been quite a while since I was at Hogwarts…"

"You were the Slytherin Head Boy!" Ethen gushed, his eyes lighting up. "There's a portrait of you in the SCaR!"

Liam's eyebrows shot up, as if he was genuinely surprised to be recognized at all. "Yes, that was me… But of course, I won't be docking any points today! Unless it's alright with Professor Binns…"

He glanced back towards the ghost, who had somehow fallen into a deep slumber. Professor Binns slowly sunk through his desk and into the floor, vanishing from sight. It was certainly more interesting than his teaching, at any rate.

He chuckled, although it seemed forced. "I suppose I'll be able to do that, then. But today, I thought I would give you all a taste of the type of questions I wrangle with… It'll be different than your usual lessons."

Instantly, everyone perked up. Even Irwin, who spent his classes sketching various magical creatures, had placed his quill down and sat up, staring at Liam with attention. Liam threw his bowler off, and it gracefully fell in the corner of the room, as he stalked over towards the whiteboard. In scrawling cursive script, he wrote a singular word:

MAGIC.

"Who can tell me what magic is?" Liam posed, turning around to regard the class.

Instantly, ten hands shot up, before lowering slowly in nervousness. The question had been too easy, to the extent that everyone was convinced they hadn't understood him. Liam's smile only seemed to widen, as if this entire process thrilled him deeply.

"You," Liam declared, nodding at Alice. "What is magic?"

Alice's eyes widened. "Me?" she stammered, hoping that he had meant anyone other than her—perhaps he had meant Marie.

"You," Liam confirmed, sitting down on Professor Binns' desk with ease and poise, as if he had taken over the classroom permanently.

Alice gulped, biting her lip instinctively. The skin cracked and began to bleed, and she took a few deep breaths, pondering the question. "Well… Magic is something that cannot be explained."

"What's your name?" Liam asked, continuing to relax on the desk.

"Alice Holmes, sir," Alice answered meekly.

He nodded. "That's a good name, Alice. Tell me, Alice, if we cannot explain magic, then how can we study it?"

"I…I don't know, sir," Alice finished lamely.

He shook his head slightly. "I'm not taking that for an answer—tell me, what is magic?"

Biting down on her lip, her cheeks turned bright red. Everyone in class stared at her, judging her, no doubt. It didn't matter that they didn't know the answer either—all that mattered was that she didn't know, and they could watch her struggle.

 _Well…Magic is something inherent to the wizarding world,_ Alice thought, struggling with the question. _We can explain it through Charms and Transfiguration and all of those sorts of disciplines… But we couldn't explain it so a muggle could do it. They just can't._

"Magic is energy," Alice blurted, thinking on her feet. "But… It's energy only known to us—to our world."

Liam smiled. "Precisely. Magic is, students, the truth to our world. It defines our every day and our every night. Think about your courses—Herbology and Charms—and realize that these are simply truths."

Everyone stared forward at him with astonishment, and then, quills scratched away frantically on their parchment lined notebooks. Each and every word Liam—not, Professor Garter—said was eaten up, as if they were starving, and it was their only source of nourishment.

"Now, had I posed this question in a muggle classroom, the answer I received would have been quite different," Liam informed, scribbling another term away on the board. "How many of you are familiar with superheroes?"

Alice's hand shot up, and to her relief, so did the rest of the class'. _Apparently even purebloods know about superheroes,_ she noted, looking as even Margo wore a brought grin on her face. She had grown up, of course, watching her parents audition for various roles as various heroes. It had been her father's dream to ironically play Captain America, if they ever decided to make the comic book hero into a film star.

"Good, I see you all have had some exposure to culture," Liam noted. "Muggles think of magic as the impossible—and in this way, they assign anything magical to superheroes. Your assignment will be to write about a superhero and how their powers mimic real magic."

He frowned, glaring at Harper, who had been making little paper birds to fly around the room.

Continuing on, Liam swept his gaze across the rest of the classroom. "I will be your teacher until the end of the term, as Professor Binns has so graciously allowed me to teach your class, and yours alone, in order to receive my teaching license. I expect your assignment to be done the next time we meet. Class dismissed."

The chairs scraped up, and Alice jotted down the assignment quickly into her notebook, before shoving it into her shoulder bag. She slung her bag over her shoulder, watching as Margo waited patiently for her by the door. Walking forward through the maze of desks, a wave of blackness suddenly appeared, swallowing her in its pride.

"Ugh!" Alice screeched, shaking her hands in an attempt to get the ink off. "Watch it, you piece of mudblood filth!"

Opening her eyes, she blinked slightly, staring at the girl in front of her. Her face was marred with horror, and instantly, Alice's heart shattered into a million tiny pieces. She knew the person who had spilled ink on her—and now, here she had called her the worst name she knew. She hadn't even looked to see who it was. It had become instinct.

A few tears shed from Marie's eyes, as she gazed back at Alice sorrowfully. "I thought you were different, Alice," she said softly.

"I'm so sorry, Marie…I didn't mean it…" Alice stammered, her eyes watering with regret.

Yet Marie had already left the classroom. It was too late.

* * *

Alice dejectedly picked at her pudding, stirring it and flattening it as much as she could. She built mounds and piles, only to destroy them. Her appetite had left her, and the ink covered her from head to toe, yet she couldn't be bothered to go change.

After all, she deserved it. Her only good friend from another house, and she had insulted her to her face. Yet the word was more than a mere insult, she knew, squirming with discomfort and regret. She hadn't called her stupid or mean or rude—she had called her a _mudblood._ Its meaning stretched beyond dirty blood. For all intents and purposes, she had said—

"Here, let me help you with that," Bronwyn smiled kindly, standing up from the other side of the table. She pointed her wand at Alice, and with crisp pronunciation said, " _Tergeo!"_

Instantly, the spell siphoned the ink off of Alice and her belongings, leaving her robes as good as new, yet it could not mend the damage she herself had done. As far as Alice was aware, there were no spells or potions that could truly change emotions. Even magic had its limits.

"Thanks," Alice said sullenly, continuing to mash her pudding as best as she could.

Bronwyn tossed a look at Margo, who shrugged helplessly. She paused for a moment, before muttering some excuse, and walking off, leaving the two first year girls alone. The two of them sat in silence for a while, as Margo nibbled away at her lunch, skimming _Voyages With Vampires_ in order to prepare for their examination on it the next day.

"What's the matter with you?" Margo frowned, as Alice continued to make a mess of her pudding.

"What's the matter with _you_?" Alice retorted, not even bothering to lift her head.

Margo rolled her eyes. "You aren't that good at comebacks, Alice. Now tell me what's wrong, or I'll get Eddie to spew all over your face."

Alice peered up at Margo, attempting not to smile. Margo's face was entirely stern, yet her single tooth poking out ruined the entire image. It was as if a country vampire had come into town, attempting to be as scary as all of the older, noble vampires.

"I'm serious, Al. Try me," Margo threatened. "And we both know that Eddie would gladly puke on you."

Alice smiled slightly, tucking a loose piece of hair behind her ear. "This is going to sound really stupid… But I called Marie a mudblood."

"So?" Margo frowned. "Is that why you're pouting?"

Alice hesitated, before nodding. "You wouldn't understand…"

Margo rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Alice, you're such a drama queen. Just apologize to her if it bothers you so much. It's not that big of a deal."

Alice nodded, though she glanced up into Margo's eyes, searching for some sort of hidden malice. She could find none, yet she remained wary, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Every time a Slytherin had come close to compassion for someone of another house, it had turned out to be a joke.

Yet Margo's expression remained serious.

"I guess I am a bit of a drama queen," Alice sighed. "I just feel like… like I'm turning into someone I don't like."

"Then don't," Margo chuckled. "You aren't going to be like Malfoy or Pucey or Bronwyn—you're going to be Alice. So suck it up, and deal with it… Otherwise, I'll have Eddie puke on you anyways."

Alice laughed once again, pondering briefly whether or not to embrace Margo. Deciding in favor of it, she pulled Margo in for a brief hug, and her stomach grumbled loudly, her appetite restored within the final few minutes of lunch. The food in front of her shimmered and vanished, just as she had attempted to scoop up some of her pudding.

Margo smiled widely, her tooth comically vampiric.

"Don't you dare laugh," Alice warned, dropping her spoon with a clatter.

"I'm not laughing," Margo muttered, covering her mouth with her hand, shaking with glee. "No one's laughing, Alice."

Alice glared at her. "I'm pretty sure Eddie wouldn't mind throwing up on you either, you know."

Margo's ears twitched upwards, rabbit like, and she nearly shrieked in surprise. At the very front of the hall, Lockhart stood poised with some sort of piece of paper, with Snape standing by his side. The expression of perfect irritation and annoyance that Snape bore was utterly perfect, to the extent that Alice wished Colin were present to photograph it.

 _I haven't seen him in a while, actually…_ Alice realized, slight feelings of concern coursing throughout her. Perhaps he had died.

"Students, it is my great pleasure to announce that I am implementing a Dueling Club with the assistance of Professor Snape!" Lockhart announced. "Sign-ups will be over here for the next few days, and the club will meet each Wednesday. I hope to see you there!"

Alice and Margo exchanged a glance.

"Lockhart is teaching it—"

"—It can't be that bad, Snape is joining in."

"Might help us next year if we get a competent teacher—"

"—We could defend ourselves against those Gryffindors in the corridors."

"It'd be pretty cool looking—"

"—Should we sign up, then?"

Alice paused, before nodding quickly. The pair of them hopped up from their seats and the table and rushed towards the front, quickly cutting in front of the mob they were convinced would form. Margo snatched a quill from some Ravenclaw third year and jotted down their names, including Edwina's, before retreating from the front of the hall.

"Do you think Edwina will mind we signed her up for that?" Margo asked, as she slung her backpack onto her back, prepared for an exciting day of classes.

Alice shrugged. "Well, _you_ did that. I had nothing to do with it."

Margo's jaw dropped, and Alice snickered as the pair of them made their way towards the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Yet rather than head inside, the pair of them hesitated, peering around.

Lockhart was nowhere to be found—and from experience, he never took roll. He always had Gayle complete it, for whatever reason, and she marked everyone as present. She had even added a boy named Vermin Supreme to the roll list, and Lockhart had yet to notice. He simply didn't care.

"I think we should go visit Eddie," Alice suggested, glancing down the corridor again. Lockhart still had not yet arrived.

Margo didn't even hesitate. "Fantastic—anything's better than hearing about _Voyages With Vampires_ again. I honestly don't think we need a review period… The correct answer to every question is 'Lockhart is amazing' anyways."

Alice snickered, nodding her head in agreement. "Tell me, Margo, what is the difference between Lockhart and a dung beetle?"

Margo paused for a moment, as if in deep contemplation. "I believe it's because one of them believes they're fantastic."

"The dung beetle, obviously," Alice snickered.

Margo chuckled, and the two of them made the trek out to the Hospital Wing. Ordinarily, they would have needed a note from a teacher, but Lockhart had a habit of signing any piece of paper in sight. As of such, they already had about five pieces of paper each bearing his signature, and Madam Pomfrey allowed them inside without any sort of protest.

The pair of them walked down to the last bed, past one that was concealed with curtains, and there they found Edwina. Her face was clammy with sweat, and her skin was as white as a sheet. A thousand blankets and pillows surrounded her, and she had snuggled into them, with a tiny book splayed out in front of her.

"You guys came!" Edwina exclaimed, before coughing violently. "Took you long enough…"

"We ditched Lockhart's class," Alice shrugged. "Did you know he's starting a Dueling Club? We're all doing it, by the way."

"Fantastic," Edwina muttered, rolling her eyes. "And here I thought you lot would bring me some decent news…"

"…Professor Binns is having a student teacher run the class for the rest of the year," Margo offered, sitting down on a chair next to Edwina's bed.

Alice sat opposite of Margo, directly next to a small little nightstand, covered with tissues and glasses, only one of which contained water. She looked at her friend, wondering what sort of potions they used to treat her sickness, and how magic hadn't been able to cure her already.

 _Maybe there's some sort of wizard cold,_ Alice pondered. _Mum probably wouldn't know about it even if it was a thing—she's so ignorant of anything that isn't an Oscar…_

"That is good news," Edwina nodded, her eyes wide either with surprise or unbearable tiredness.

An impish smile slid onto her face, though it was interrupted by another fit of coughing. "Have you two seen Colin lately, by the way? The dirty little mudblood with the camera that he's always shoving in other people's faces?"

The two of them nodded, and as if Edwina was a force all of her own, their gazes drifted towards the bed surrounded by privacy curtains.

Edwina nodded at it. "I saw them bring him in there the other night—he looked just like Filch's cat. Stone cold dead."


	14. Chapter 14

By the time Edwina was allowed to rejoin her friends in the Slytherin Common Room, her nose had turned a delicate shade of blue. Various little white dots appeared on it over time, as if it had begun to grow freckles.

"Madam Pomfrey says it's just a side effect of the medicine," Edwina glared, nursing her pride. "I've told you lot this a thousand times."

"So what you're saying is that it's permanent?" Margo squeaked, fighting back another round of giggles.

Edwina rolled her eyes, sniffling slightly. The color of her nose darkened for a brief moment, before returning to its previous shade of light blue. As far as anyone was aware, Edwina's nose would be back to normal within a few days. It was a pity that Colin Creevey wasn't around to photograph it endlessly.

The trio made their way towards the Great Hall on a brisk December morning, their green and silver scarves wrapped around their necks tightly. The dungeon had a bit of a heating problem—and by that, it was truly a complete lack of heating. Bluebell flames in jars had to be kept at the foot of each and every bed or it became completely intolerable.

The Great Hall, of course, was decorated with the utmost taste. Alice appreciated it tremendously, as Tim Burton and Lena Gieseke had hosted the last Christmas party she attended. She had grown accustomed to a certain level of quality, and the Christmas trees put all around the hall satisfied that. Small little snowflakes fell delicately down from the ceiling, vanishing right before they touched the ground.

Margo grinned sheepishly up at it, her tooth poking out slightly as ever. "I never want to graduate."

Edwina chuckled. "I can't wait until I'm Head Girl of this place—things will be different when I'm in charge."

"How?" Alice questioned, rolling her eyes slightly at Edwina's delusions of grandeur.

"For starters, butterbeer will be considered a basic necessity," Edwina declared, her voice rising slightly as to attract attention. "Together, we can! Now, who is with me? Who is ready to take over the school?"

Marie's small head glanced over in their direction at Edwina's shouting. Her eyes fell on Alice, and her smile vanished from sight. Arlo pulled her attention away from them, and she continued to chatter on amiably with the other Hufflepuffs. They had all gravitated towards one end of the table, where an irritating second year named Justin was speaking excitedly about something.

"Any idea what's going on with them?" Edwina asked, before making her way over to the Slytherin table. "It's not too often that those idiots get happy."

"They're always happy," Margo laughed. "My brother never stopped grinning—not once. He had to get some bones regrown, didn't stop smiling at all… He's a moron sometimes."

Alice's heart fell a little more. Once again, she found herself being torn apart. She could not resist the urge to fit in among her house and with her friends, yet at the same time, her mind was swimming with Marie's broken face. _There has to be a better way,_ Alice hoped, her spirits crushed. _I don't have to be mean—right?_

"True," Edwina conceded. "That's why they're such morons. No one could possibly be _that_ happy all of the time and have any sort of sense to them."

Alice winced slightly, parting her lips. Before she could stop herself, the words had slid out, almost as if they were of their own accord. "Surprised Creevey isn't one of them," she said.

Edwina nodded. "Gryffindor is different, you see. They're the type of stupid that gets themselves killed. Hence why Creevey's probably dead in the Hospital Wing… They should just get his grave ready."

"That isn't funny," Alice whispered as Edwina and Margo took their seats.

"You say something, Alice?" Margo asked, pouring herself some marmalade.

She hardly hesitated. "Nope—didn't say a word."

Alice sat down next to Edwina at the table, and she scooped some bacon onto her plate. She despised it when she was younger, yet her mother had taught her to enjoy food that she hated. Actors and actresses didn't usually have the nerve to complain to a caterer about the quality of food.

"Miss Holmes, Miss Fawley, Miss Cavey," Professor Snape said sternly, stepping behind Margo. "I need to know if you are intending to remain here for the holidays…"

Margo shook her head. Her brother was taking her on a trip to Mexico, in order to see the ruins of the Aztec civilization. And Edwina was going to some sort of secret society meeting—she only let them know that only twenty eight families were allowed to attend. Beyond that, she had refused to say a word about it.

Alice hesitated for a moment. Amaryllis would gladly take her, though Alice had no interest in going back to that quaint cottage. Her parents wrote her the week before to inform her their plans to spend Christmas in Bulgaria had to be canceled—her mother was hosting some American television program called _Saturday Night Live_ immediately before guest starring in a new season of a popular crime show.

She didn't care at all for the idea of spending Christmas in another trailer on some set.

"I'll stay," Alice said, reaching her hand out for the form from Professor Snape. "Do I just write my name here?"

"Obviously," Snape muttered calmly. As soon as Alice had scribbled her name onto the form, he took it and whisked away, down to bother the rest of her housemates about their vacation plans.

Edwina snickered slightly. "You know, Draco is staying for the holidays as well. I heard a rumor that he fancies you."

Alice gagged slightly. "Please, Eddie. I'm hardly twelve."

Margo grinned, scooping another spoon filled with porridge. "Make sure to write to us, yeah? I'll be sending your present as soon as I get home."

"Why not just leave it here?" Alice frowned. "Save your poor owl a trip…"

"…Good point," Margo grinned. "Why aren't you in Ravenclaw, eh? You're sure smart enough to be one. Mr. Garter gushed over your essay to Professor Snape last night at dinner—I heard the entire thing."

"The hat almost put me in Ravenclaw," Alice mused.

"Explains why you took forever to be sorted," Edwina chuckled. "Maybe you aren't actually a Slytherin then."

Margo rolled her eyes. "That's silly—Alice is the most crafty, cunning, and sly person I've ever met. Plus, she's pureblood. Makes her a shoe in."

"Yeah," Alice lied. Her stomach twisted with discomfort, as she recalled the Golden Globes tickets. Somehow, she'd have to convince Draco that her muggle father was a pureblood wizard.

 _Maybe I'll say he would have been a Hufflepuff,_ Alice pondered. _It could lower his expectations a smidge._

* * *

Edwina's nose had lightened considerably by the end of the day. Rather than being blue, it had turned into the palest shade of lavender. Alice and Margo were both secretly disappointed, as they had hoped that Edwina's nose would remain unusually colored until the holidays began.

"This is so exciting!" Edwina gushed, braiding her hair quickly. "I'm going to beat all of you lot."

"Assuming I don't beat you first," Alice chuckled, smirking slyly.

Tonight was the start of the accomplishment of her dream to become the greatest witch who ever lived. She would heroically beat every other student in the Dueling Club, and then she would best Lockhart. It wouldn't be too hard, and she would then narrowly lose to Professor Snape. He would then train her, and next year, she would be the youngest person in history to win the Peverell Cup.

Stars shined in her eyes as they joined the large crowd of students. A few of the older students had neglected to wear their robes, their sleeves rolled up as if they were prepared to arm wrestle, rather than to duel. At the center of it all, Lockhart and Snape stood on an elevated stage of sorts. Lockhart wore an atrocious lavender garb, while Snape was clad in his usual black.

"I bet Snape'll beat him," Edwina grinned. "Maybe Mr. Garter will have to teach our Defense Against the Dark Arts class too."

Mr. Garter—or Professor Garter, no one could quite agree on which to use—had proven to be fanatical. He had spent the last class lecturing on the importance of the _Tales of Beedle the Bard._ At one point in class, he realized that Alice's mother was Dymphna Blackstone. Her mother had played the maiden in _the Warlock's Hairy Heart_ , and Mr. Garter had been in attendance that day at the theatre.

To say Alice had been embarrassed was an understatement.

"I heard he won the Peverell Cup, actually," Margo whispered.

Alice's eyes widened slightly with newfound respect, yet before she could ask Margo anything else, Lockhart pointed his wand at his throat, and his voice was amplified.

"Welcome everyone to this little dueling club of ours!" Lockhart announced, smiling largely. "Professor Snape has been so kind to offer to assist me, and I promise I won't damage your Potions master too much…"

Alice, Edwina, and Margo glared at Lockhart, along with the rest of the Slytherins. The other houses snickered, looking forward to the idea of seeing Snape get beaten black and blue. They hated him for hardly any good reasons.

"Now, I am going to demonstrate a rather basic move," Lockhart boasted. "Watch— _Colovaria!"_

Snape chuckled as Lockhart stared forward with shock. To him, it must have appeared that the spell had done nothing. Snape stood there completely unharmed.

Lockhart's hair, however, had turned magenta.

"Professor, your hair!" Marie's voice cried out, though Alice could tell that she was enjoying the spectacle nonetheless.

"Oh dear," Lockhart frowned. "Well—I meant to do that, of course! You see, you need the utmost concentration when dueling, otherwise this is what will happen, children. Now it is Professor Snape's turn."

" _Aeris Percutio_!" Snape commanded stiffly, whipping his wand around. Lockhart's robes suddenly were cut up as if by a million tiny razor blades, and minor scratches littered his body.

"Well…There we have it!" Lockhart chuckled stiffly. "Of course, I let Professor Snape do that to me…Ordinarily, he wouldn't have stood a chance!"

Edwina rolled her eyes, before making a very rude gesture towards Lockhart. They largely ignored his words, though they did pay enough attention to watch as they were all put into pairs. Edwina found herself matched up with Ginny Weasley, and the two of them already bore death glares. Margo was paired up with a far older boy named Cedric, who wore a dashing smile.

"You'll be with Miss Nicholas, Miss Holmes," Snape announced, shoving Alice delicately towards Marie.

Alice gulped, desperate to find anyway to escape. Marie had each and every reason to detest her. She had called her—she had called her… Alice cringed, forcing herself to not even think that word again. Perhaps if she forgot it existed, she would never use it again.

"Alice," Marie said softly.

"Marie," Alice replied curtly, avoiding her gaze. She didn't want to see the pain and anger in Marie's sweet eyes.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Marie charge forwards. This was it—she was certain Marie was about to punch her. The wind was knocked out of her, and she choked, only to find a certain Hufflepuff hugging her tightly.

"I forgive you, even if you don't forgive yourself," Marie whispered in her ear. "I know about your dad."

Marie let go, and Alice's eyes widened with fear. _She knows he's a muggle—she knows I have dirty blood._

Her heart pounded, and she found herself unable to speak. Her ears rang and all around her, she could see people begin to practice spells with each other, demonstrating their prowess at the Disarming Charm.

"What do you mean?" Alice swallowed thickly, her hands trembling as she grasped her wand.

Marie glanced from side to side. "I know you want them to think that you're a pureblood—but I know your father is Edmund Holmes, the muggle actor."

Alice gulped, her eyes welling with tears. She closed them briefly, only to find Marie enveloping her in a hug once more.

"I'm sorry I didn't help you," Marie mumbled. "People in Slytherin can be really prejudiced—I can't imagine what it's like in there."

Alice laughed, shoving the hug away. "You shouldn't be saying sorry… _Expelliarmus!"_

Marie's wand flew out of her hand, and Alice beamed at Marie's confused face. "We're supposed to be practicing this, remember?"

Marie rolled her eyes. "You know how to ruin a perfectly good moment."

Alice grinned. "Do you want to see a spell I've been working on?"

Marie nodded. Alice pointed her wand at Marie's wand, and she cleared her throat. " _Accio wand!"_

Nothing happened. It hardly even rolled to the side a bit. Alice's face fell, and Marie snickered, glad to see her ego take a hit.

"Maybe you just need to say it in a silly voice," Marie offered.

However, the suggestion was cut off quickly. Everyone had fallen into hushed whispers as Lockhart and Snape pulled the fabled enemies, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, up to the stage. The pair stood on opposite ends, each holding their wands at the ready.

Mairead Fallon stood in front of Marie and Alice, obscuring their views slightly. Draco and Harry bowed to each other, and in a moment, a snake appeared out of Draco's wand. It slithered its way towards Harry, and Alice's heart began to pound once more.

Even Lockhart couldn't have confused that spell with a Disarming Charm, surely. This was entirely intentional, a fact that was evident from the broad smirk on Malfoy's face.

"Scared, Potter?" Draco sneered.

Instead, something very strange and very stupid happened. Harry walked towards the snake, ignoring the warnings of Professor Snape. He opened his mouth and hissed at it, and the snake moved towards Justin, the Hufflepuff second year. Justin's face went white with fear, and Harry hissed more forcefully at the snake.

"Potter!" Snape warned, and Harry turned to look at him.

Slowly, the snake backed off, and Snape waved his wand, vanishing it quickly. Justin fell to his knees in terror, and all of Hufflepuff house swarmed around him for comfort.

"He was trying to kill me!" Justin stammered. "He's the Heir of Slytherin!"

Everyone's heads turned at Harry in surprise, and Harry's eyes widened with fear. He had no idea of what was going on, and deep down, Alice pitied him. His life mustn't have been easy.

But at the same time, she despised him. Two conflicting philosophies were at work inside of her, battling each other constantly. It was a fight for Alice's soul.

"He's going to kill everyone!" a girl screamed. "He opened the Chamber of Secrets!"

The hysteria swept through the crowd, and Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley dragged Harry away from the scene, before anyone could do anything rash. Alice gulped, exchanging a panicked glance with Marie. Mairead turned to the two of them, as if looking for someone to gossip with.

"Do you think he's the Heir of Slytherin?" Mairead asked, her eyes wide with fascination. "Is that possible? He's a Gryffindor…"

Marie shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. I'm not really an expert on this entire thing."

Alice frowned, her mind flashing back to the developments in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were certainly up to something. Were they attempting to open the Chamber of Secrets and purge all of the muggleborns? _No, Hermione's muggleborn_ , Alice decided. It simply wasn't logical.

But yet…The Boy Who Lived was most certainly up to something.

"I don't have a clue," Alice admitted, just as a strike of inspiration hit her. "But I think I know who would."

"Who?" Mairead asked, just as Michael Corner tugged on the sleeve of her robe.

"Professor Garter," Alice mumbled, the plan falling into detail more and more. "He's a Slytherin alumnus, gifted historian and duelist… If anyone can figure out who the Heir of Slytherin actually is, I bet he can."

Marie nodded in agreement. "I heard he likes cheesecake."


	15. Chapter 15

Alice waved at Edwina and Margo as they climbed aboard the scarlet steam engine. She had snuck along to accompany them, though strictly speaking, it would have been best for her to remain behind at the Slytherin Common Room. The few remaining Slytherins had begun a twelve day long celebration of the holiday season, with each day featuring different activities.

She smiled wearily as Edwina and Margo disappeared, scanning for their faces among the frosted windows. The train pulled away just as she spotted them, and with surprise, she realized that she hadn't seen a single Weasley. They were so numerous, it was rather peculiar that she hadn't noticed a single one of them.

"Best be heading back to the castle, miss," Hagrid, the frighteningly large Keeper of Keys and Grounds, advised. "Wouldn't want Snape to know about this, hmm?"

Alice glanced up at the large man, and she spotted a small snitch stuck in the massive tangles of his beard. For a moment, she contemplated plucking it out and seizing it for her own, yet she decided against it. She had a far better idea of what to do with her newfound time and freedom.

Fortunately, the Quidditch pitch was only a brisk walk once she had made it back to the Hogwarts grounds. All of the Slytherin brooms were locked up in the broom shed, and Alice was certain that no one would mind if she took one. Approaching the broom shed, she tugged on the door, only to discover to her dismay that it was locked.

She waved her wand in a backwards S of sorts, and whispered, " _Alohomora!"_

The door to the shed clicked open, and it swung forwards. Alice grinned a bit, stepping quietly inside of the shed. All of the Slytherin brooms, gleaming Nimbus 2001 models, were propped up against the wall. Alice scanned them over, before spotting Draco's broom. Sliding her pair of thick green gloves onto her hands, she dropped her small bag down on the ground, and snatched the broom.

Bursting with pride, she gleefully left the shed, and waved her wand at the lock. _"Colloportus!"_

The door sealed, and she grinned, before tying her scarf around her neck so that way it would cover her mouth. Keeping the cold at bay, she mounted Draco's broom, and kicked off.

"Woohoo!" Alice screamed in pure ecstasy. Her hair billowed in the wind, creating a gleaming carpet of ebony as she found herself soaring over the grounds. Tiny snowflakes fell and were captured by her hair, creating little specks like stars among the darkness.

Completely exhilarated, she began to form loops and twirls, shooting off above the Forbidden Forest. As far as she was aware, there was no rule about where one could ride a broomstick. Professor Snape would hardly complain—it was true, after all. He did favor the Slytherins.

"I wonder if Draco will be cross…" Alice mused, bringing the broom to a temporary halt over the forest.

It moved softly, obeying her each and every thought. For a brief moment, she imagined that the Holyhead Harpies' head recruiter would spot her, and instantly make her an offer to play as a beater for their team. Of course, she would have to deny the offer, in order to focus on her studies—yet the recruiter would not take no for an answer, and she would be promised a position the instant she graduated.

Alice slimed with pure bliss, though a face of pure terror quickly replaced it. There, in a small clearing of the trees, was some sort of monstrous creature. Hairy and with a face that would terrify the devil, it crawled around on eight huge legs. Alice gulped, watching as it crawled out of sight, vanishing farther into the darkness.

She then recklessly began to follow it, flying closer to the treetops. She didn't dare to go down there, as she didn't fancy being murdered by a spider that day. Peering after the spider as it traveled through the web of trees and bushes, eventually, it emerged in a hollow of sorts. Thousands of other spiders surrounded it, and in the center of the group, what appeared disturbingly like a body rested.

Alice's face turned green, and the contents of her stomach nearly deserted her. She didn't dare to get a further look. _This is why the forest is forbidden,_ Alice thought sadly, wondering who the poor soul was that had been caught at the wrong moment. Biting down on her lip, she watched as the object vanished from sight.

"What the hell is going on here…" Alice whispered, seized by horror.

First, an age old myth had come to life, determined to murder each and every person with filthy blood—including her. On some occasions, her days seemed to be numbered, as it was inevitable that the Heir of Slytherin would recognize her for the filth she was. And now, a group of spiders carried away some innocent person, devouring them whole.

 _This wouldn't have happened at W.A.D.A.,_ Alice recognized grimly. Due to the large amount of celebrities' children that attended, the security was immense. Hardly anyone knew how to even journey to W.A.D.A., to the extent that it was rumored to be even safer than Hogwarts.

Turning Draco's broom around, the soft sound of pincers clicking haunted her. Despite all of the speed of the Nimbus 2001, she hardly felt it went fast enough. Her teeth chattered the entire brief flight back, and by the time she arrived at the broom shed, it took her far more tries than she cared for to clear her mind enough to cast the Unlocking Charm.

Her stomach swirled with regret and fear. Nowhere was safe, it seemed.

* * *

Alice opened her eyes, hearing nothing but the sound of her own breathing. It was Christmas Day, she realized with a jolt. Her father had asked for her to write him as to who she would be taking with her to the Golden Globes! A pang of regret rippled through her, and she quickly got out of her bed, throwing a robe on over her pajamas.

 _Draco's got to be up by now,_ Alice reasoned, dashing out of her dormitory and into the Slytherin Common Room. Sure enough, Draco was sitting with Crabbe and Goyle by the fireplace. Kate Sanders and Janus Rooke joined them, with Algernon sitting in the corner, practicing Exploding Snap in a new style Alice had not quite understood.

"Happy Christmas!" Draco grinned, gesturing towards a pile of untouched presents. "That's your lot, Holmes. If you hurry up, you can join in on the game."

"What are you playing?" Alice mused, dashing over towards her pile of presents. She never could resist the material proof of her parents' love and adoration for her.

"Some muggle game," Draco paused, frowning for a moment. "You either tell the truth or perform a dare—honestly, I think it's more likely wizards invented it and muggles picked it up… It'd make far more sense."

"You're completely right," Alice muttered, attempting to keep the sarcasm from her voice.

Ignoring Draco's reply, she sat down and glanced at each of the presents in turn. The first present was from her parents, and she grinned with joy once she recognized it. It was a Chameleon Cloak—valuable, and tricky to come by one that would last. Rather than rendering the wearer invisible, it allowed the wearer to blend in to their surroundings. Of course, its uses were limited, and eventually, the fabric would lose its luster.

Elrond curled up in her lap as she reached for the next present. It was a book, addressed to her as a present from Edwina. Frowning slightly, she opened it up, only to have her heart sink slowly. It was a copy of _Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Geneaology_. The Slytherin Common Room had its own copy, and Edwina must have seen Alice searching through it frantically earlier that year.

However, Edwina had also thought to include some chocolate frogs with the book, so the present wasn't entirely awful. Margo had given her an illustrated copy of _the Tales of Beedle the Bard_ , with each of the images moving and changing to match the events of the story. It may have been a little childish, yet it didn't censor out Alice's favorite story— _the Warlock's Hairy Heart_.

Marie had knitted her a small hippogriff, and attached to it was a long note babbling about how uncertain she was as to whether or not Alice would like it. Elrond quickly attacked the toy, and Alice giggled, wondering how Marie would react to seeing the present be stolen by her small little kitten.

Lastly, there was another book, wrapped neatly in emerald green paper. It was _Curses and Counter-curses (Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue-Tying, and Much, Much More)._ A small note addressed to her fell out as she opened the cover, and her heart sped up, recognizing the crisp, green writing.

 _Alice—_

 _I saw you practicing on your own._

 _Maybe this'll help._

 _I bet you'll be able to beat Potter already._

 _Draco_

She smiled, glancing up at him in the circle. Placing her presents back into a pile, she joined them, her cheeks pink with embarrassment. It was ridiculous to think that Draco fancied her—after all, she was hardly twelve. Love was for adults.

"Holmes, your turn," Draco smirked, his pale blue eyes flashing at her. "Truth or dare?"

Alice hesitated for a moment. Her father's request flashed back into her mind. "Actually, Draco, I have a question for you—in private."

His blonde eyebrows furrowed, yet he obliged, rising from his seat and indicating to the rest to continue playing without him. The two of them headed over towards the corner of the Slytherin Common Room, where only Algernon would be able to disturb them.

"What is it?" Draco frowned. "Are you going to confess your undying love for me?"

"What?" Alice scoffed. "Please, don't be insane—I just need a favor. My dad has some sort of award ceremony and he'd like me to bring a friend."

Draco appeared taken aback for a moment, yet then he grinned slyly. His family was rather influential. _He must get asked to attend ceremonies all the time,_ Alice pondered. _He probably won't want to be bothered with going._

"Which ceremony is it?" Draco inquired.

"The Golden Globes," Alice sighed. "He works in muggle films sometimes, as wizarding theater never occurs on a regular schedule, and he won."

Draco frowned, his eyes narrowing. "Your father…works with…muggles?"

Alice nodded.

"Is he mental?" Draco pressed, searching her face for any hint of a lie.

She shrugged, jumping slightly as the cards exploded on Algernon, and he was forced to start his game over again. "Work is work—besides, it can be helpful to have muggle friends. Lots of pureblood families used to rub elbows with muggles."

She hesitated briefly, before continuing on. "I read in the library that the Malfoy family did dealings with muggle kings—my dad is doing no differently here."

"They'll kill you," Draco said softly. "There's a reason we hate them, Alice. It isn't safe for us to be hanging around that sort of trash."

Biting her lip, Alice strained her memory for some sort of reason to convince Draco Malfoy to attend the ceremony with her. "My dad hates working with muggles. And if you don't agree to come with me, then some stupid muggle boy is going to escort me."

He hesitated for a moment. "Fine—but don't think I'll ever do this again, Holmes. I'll tell my father about this, you see. He'll get your father all straightened out. He shouldn't be fraternizing with the wrong sort."

Alice smiled feebly. "I know exactly what you mean—it irritates me to death."

* * *

After the feast concluded, Alice had gone up to the Owlery to inform her father that Draco Malfoy would be attending the Golden Globes with her. She hadn't yet told her parents that everyone believed Edmund was a wizard himself. _They're actors, they can go along with it,_ Alice told herself repeatedly.

Sending off the school barn owl, Alice traveled down the narrow and winding stairs of the Owlery, heading towards the Slytherin Common Room. A game of Mosdrash was supposed to take place that night. As far as Alice could understand, it was Capture the Flag meets Quidditch—she could hardly contain her excitement.

On her way back towards the Slytherin Common Room, she ran into none other than Crabbe and Goyle. The two of them seemed to be drunk with food, as they continued stumbling about, and poking at their skin as if it wasn't their own.

"Are you two…alright?" Alice asked, raising an eyebrow delicately. "Should I call for Madam Pomfrey?"

Goyle's eyes went wide, as if he had never seen her before. "Uh, no… We're good… Alyssa."

"Alice," she frowned. "Did you two eat yourselves to death again?"

Goyle and Crabbe stared at each other, each of their faces painted with genuine shock and confusion. A moment later, Goyle nodded at Alice, appearing like a helpless newborn ashwinder. Luckily, he wouldn't cause everything to go up in flames when he died—she hoped.

"Come on," Alice sighed. "Let's get you two back to the SCaR—I assume you know how to get there still."

They stared blankly at her, as if they had never heard the term before. _They really are idiots,_ Alice mused. _It's almost insulting to have them be in my house—they should have been Gryffindors._

She frowned, before motioning for them to follow her. It wasn't too long of a walk, as they were rather close to the Slytherin Common Room as it was. When they arrived in front of the wall, she glanced back at them, expecting one of them to know the password. They stared back at her, wearing the same clueless expressions as always. _Typical_.

"Pureblood!" she said clearly, grimacing at her befuddled housemates. The wall in front of them melted away, revealing the beloved Slytherin Common Room. "Try not to puke on the carpet—you'll ruin it."

Snickering at her own joke, she walked inside, with the two idiots trailing behind her. Janus and Kate were nowhere to be found, and Algernon had gone off to assist Professor Snape in brewing some more advanced potions. Only Draco remained, and he grinned when he saw her, motioning for her to take the seat next to him.

She sat across from him, in a completely different armchair. For a moment, he appeared dejected.

"I think someone broke them," Alice commented, gesturing towards Crabbe and Goyle. The pair were staring around in fascination at the Slytherin Common Room, marveling at each tiny detail.

Draco frowned, before murmuring in agreement. "You two—what's the matter with you? I couldn't find you after the feast. Went back for sixths?"

Crabbe snickered, while Goyle turned a light shade of crimson. "Er… Yeah, that's what… what we were doing… Totally."

Alice and Draco exchanged a rare glance.

"I didn't know they could get stupider," Alice admitted.

"Same," Draco pondered. "Oh well—it's not surprising, at least. Come on, you two."

Crabbe and Goyle hardly took any offense, and Crabbe seemed to smile more with each and every insult. It perplexed Alice to no end as the two sat down next to Draco, and Goyle quickly grabbed a newspaper off of the small ebony coffee table.

"You can read?" Draco commented. "I'm impressed."

"So am I," Crabbe muttered under his breath, though Draco couldn't hear him.

 _Something strange is going on,_ Alice thought. She studied the pair of them for a moment, attempting to determine what had happened to them. They were far too idiotic to be clever about anything.

"What aren't you two talking about?" Alice posed, deciding to be bold. "Don't try to lie—I know when you two are doing that."

Draco shot a glance over at Alice, yet she didn't remove her stare from Goyle. His face flushed with embarrassment, and she smirked, glad that she had successfully hit the mark. Nothing ever got past her.

"We… We wanted to ask if either of you two knew who the Heir of Slytherin was," Goyle admitted lamely. "Thought it was you, Draco."

Draco's face lit up, positively ebullient. "I wish I was—I'd use the monster properly, starting with offing Granger. No one even likes her."

Alice snickered, quietly agreeing. She still hadn't forgotten the vow she had made that day on the train, that she would find some sort of way to best Hermione Granger. If Hermione indeed did die, then it would be an easy win for her. A dead witch could hardly outperform a living one.

Strangely, Crabbe's face was masked with rage over Draco's suggestion.

"Do you know who is?" Goyle asked, his voice as thick as lead.

Draco shook his head. "My dad told me stories about it, though. He said the Chamber of Secrets was opened fifty years ago, and some dirty mudblood died… They caught the person who did it though."

Goyle's eyebrows shot up. "Do you know who it was?"

"No," Draco sighed. "Father won't tell me—he'll tell me where the hidden stash of illicit artifacts are, but not who opened the Chamber of Secrets!"

He groaned, pouting almost like a puppy. "I wish I knew who it was. I'd help them get rid of all the filth in the school. Anyone who isn't a pureblood is nothing better than scum."

Alice flinched slightly, hardly able to keep her breath steady. The venomous hatred in Draco's eyes took her aback, and for a moment, she wanted nothing more than to run away from this place, from this den of inequity.

Goyle's face rippled, and for a moment, Alice wondered if it was about to fall off. Perhaps he had finally eaten so much that he was bound to explode, and Crabbe's face paled rapidly as well.

"Are you two alright?" Alice frowned, peering at them again. "You look awful."

"I know," Goyle stammered. "We'll just…Hospital Wing!"

Draco and Alice hardly had time to blink as the two boys rushed out of the room. For a moment, Alice could have sworn that Crabbe's hair had turned ginger, yet it must have been a trick of the light. The door slammed shut behind them, leaving just Alice and Draco alone in the Slytherin Common Room.

It was hardly the strangest thing she had seen that day.

Alice turned to Draco, staring at him pensively as the fire flickered. "Do you think Potter could be the Heir of Slytherin?"

He hardly hesitated. "No, Potter couldn't kill a flobberworm, much less a mudblood."


	16. Chapter 16

Alice hardly got a wink of sleep that night. In her dreams, Draco's face sneered with spite as he realized that her father was simply a piece of muggle scum. His face would swell up to enormous proportions, a specter in its own right, and swallow her whole. At that point, she would be trapped in a dark, damp area—the closest thing she knew to hell.

It was then that she woke up, the light filtering in dimly, distorted to being a soft shade of emerald green. Sick to her stomach, each piece of green fabric was a nail in her coffin, the ringing of the death knell that would destroy her resolve. For what was likely to not be the last time, she yearned for the soft blue and bronze colors of Ravenclaw House. Her entire first year would have gone done a much brighter path, had she chosen the house of knowledge, rather than the house of ambition.

Biting her lip, she opened up her bag, checking to see what belongings she was bringing with her. There would hardly be any time for homework, yet she had brought _A History of Magic_ by Bathilda Bagshot with her in the hopes that she would finish her essay on the Salem Witch Trials for Professor Garter. His expectations continued to rise more and more, and soon enough, Alice felt he would be so enthralled with her work that he would certainly answer the question that had been burned into her mind—whether or not Harry Potter could be the Heir of Slytherin.

"You're leaving soon, right Alice?" Gayle remarked quietly, her face covered in shadow.

Alice nodded, attempting not to show any sign of surprise or fear. For some reason that she could not fathom, Gayle terrified her. Armelle didn't cause her to feel crippled with fear, and she hardly talked to her as well. There was just something about Gayle that unsettled her, as if Gayle carried some grim, dark, and pressing secret, the consequences of which were insidious.

"Well, no rush," Gayle said simply, before withdrawing back towards her bed.

Goosebumps ran up and down Alice's arm, and she nodded again meekly. Hoisting her bag over her shoulder, she was incredibly thankful to be out of Gayle's presence, even if it meant facing another fear of hers—Draco Malfoy. As soon as she emerged into the Slytherin Common Room, certainly enough, the towheaded boy awaited her.

"Holmes," he smiled, though his eyes were empty and vapid. "Are we leaving for this muggle-fest of yours now, then?"

Alice frowned, though for a moment, she nearly felt strangled by her own lungs. Any air she took in felt poisoned, as if the entire world had decided to plot against her. She could not fathom why she had asked Draco to accompany her—but somehow, it would have been wrong not to ask him.

"Headmaster Dumbledore said to go to his office," Alice explained. "We're taking the Floo as far as Hogsmeade, and from that point, my mother will grab us."

"You don't have the Floo network at your home?" Draco asked, his eyebrows shooting up.

"I live in a penthouse suite," Alice scoffed. "There isn't exactly a working fireplace in it—in fact, the only time we ever have a fire is when Mum tries cooking."

Draco snickered at that, his entire body relaxing. Alice allowed herself to breathe, adjusting the way her bag was slung over her shoulder. Draco's shoulder bag was bursting with various items, and for a moment, Alice wondered if he had attempted to bring all of his clothing with him.

 _He'll be in for it, if he thinks they'll let us wear our own clothes…_ Alice noted, contemplating whether or not to tell him. _It'll be funnier to watch his reaction, bringing all of that stuff for nothing._

Alice grinned, as Draco exited the Slytherin Common Room, briefly paraphrasing the directions to Headmaster Dumbledore's office. Alice quickly deduced that Draco frequently made the trip to his office, though it wasn't too much of a leap. He seemed to get detention every two weeks for his theatrics with Potter.

"Have you ever been to the Golden Globes before?" Alice asked as they rounded a corner.

Draco shook his head. "Father doesn't exactly approve of these things. It was my mother who convinced him to let me to go—she thinks it'll be a good chance for me to get to know the Blackstone family."

"Well, my mum is pretty batty," Alice laughed, blushing for a reason unknown to her. "She's hardly even a witch—barely scraped a pass in Charms."

"You're joking," Draco snickered. "She's pureblood—can't be rubbish at Charms."

Alice nodded, climbing up a marble staircase. "She hardly passed her classes at W.A.D.A. I think that's why she married my dad—they're both dreadful at magic."

"Sounds dreadful," Draco frowned. "How do you put up with that, Holmes?"

"I honestly don't know," Alice responded quietly, a tiny bubble of happiness growing in her stomach. "The two of them can be so daft…"

Draco nodded in agreement, launching into a lengthy discussion about his third cousin, Leviticus. From what Alice could gather, he was perhaps an even worse wizard than her mother.

"And you see, that's why I'm pretty sure Aunt Madrona slept with the piece of scum," Malfoy explained. "There's no way a pureblood child would be that thick."

Alice nodded in agreement, just as they found themselves in front of a large statue. It stared them down formidably, and Alice gulped, as if it would spring to life and devour her completely. Draco, however, merely smirked.

"Lemon drop!" he commanded.

The statue lurched, and slowly peeled away, revealing a hidden staircase. Alice stared at him, wide eyed with respect and fascination.

"How'd you know that was the password?" she asked.

Draco shrugged. "Dumbledore is a terrible headmaster for several reasons—but the main one is that he's awful at remembering to change passwords."

He smirked at her, before climbing up the staircase. His blonde hair glinted in the light strangely, almost turning a silvery shade of gold. Enthralled and amazed, Alice followed after him, jumping up the stairs two at a time, in an attempt to arrive at the top faster.

The door stood ajar, and the pair glanced at each other, before proceeding inside. An old and weary phoenix sat perched by the desk, next to an even older and wearier man. He glanced up at them, smiling with twinkling eyes, and motioned for them to sit down in front of him.

Draco sauntered up to the desk immediately, while Alice shyly attempted to not be noticed at all. She had never had a conversation with Headmaster Dumbledore before, and for that, he was all the more frightening. Her only interaction with him was listening to his announcements, and then hearing stories of students threatened with expulsion. To her, he was terrifying, and held her fate in his trembling, withering hands.

"Miss Holmes," he smiled, nodding at her politely. "Would you care for a toffee? Madam Pomfrey brought them for me a few days ago, and I'm afraid they stick in my teeth more than I'd like…"

Alice hesitated. _Is he trying to poison me? Maybe it's laced with something… He probably is going to kill me—it's only logical…_

"No thank you, sir," Alice replied meekly, lowering her head as she said it.

Headmaster Dumbledore chuckled slightly, sensing her apprehension. He offered the sweets to Draco, yet he declined them as well, still sporting a smug grin on his face. Somehow, he didn't seem to be nearly as confident in Headmaster Dumbledore's company.

"Very well," the headmaster chuckled. "You two are going to be gone for just two days, as far as Miss Blackstone informed me. I expect that you both will be on your best behavior, and understand, any use of magic will result in strict punishment."

Draco's eyes glossed over, and Alice sat on the edge of her seat, catching Dumbledore's each and every word. She listened attentively as he explained the standard rules for interacting with muggles, and how they would be traveling back to the school when the ceremony had concluded.

"Finally, Miss Holmes," Dumbledore said. "Please do wish your grandmother a happy birthday—it's been decades since I've seen Amaryllis."

"You know her grandmother?" Draco asked, suddenly interested. "What, did you fancy her?"

Dumbledore laughed. "Oh, she wasn't my type—nor was I hers."

Alice and Draco's faces twisted identically, both gripped by confusion. Dumbledore laughed more, as if he had told a very telling joke, and handed them each a small pouch, filled with powder. Alice couldn't help but smell it—to her, Floo powder had the strangest scent in the world. It was as if someone combined the smell of freshly backed cookies with lemons, creating a bizarrely beautiful combination.

"Best of luck," Dumbledore nodded.

The grate to the fireplace instantly vanished, and Alice's stomach twisted. Without saying a single word to Draco, she stepped in front of the fireplace, and threw a pinch of Floo powder inside. The flames turned a sickening shade of emerald green, and she wished that she would never have to see the color green again. Stepping into the flames, she caught a glimpse of Draco.

"The Three Broomsticks!" Alice shouted, tearing her gaze away from the towheaded boy.

* * *

Falling to her feet on the dusty floor of the Three Broomsticks, Alice quickly scrambled to get up. Her mother was nowhere to be found, and as she expected, her father was tapping away at some device with immense confusion.

"Alice, love!" he exclaimed, putting the device away. "Do you know why nothing seems to be working here? I can't get a single tune to play…"

Alice glared at him unconsciously. Realizing her mistake, she softened her features, and gently approached him. It would be about a minute before Draco would appear—he was very particular when he traveled, ensuring that he cleared all of the dust off of himself before he finally took off. It was silly and absurd—yet in this instance, Alice hardly cared.

"Dad, you need to pretend you're a wizard," Alice whispered quickly. "Don't ask why—just do it."

Edmund's face twisted with confusion, though Alice glared at him again. Had he been at Hogwarts, Alice realized, her father would have been sorted into Hufflepuff.

"Alright…" Edmund frowned. "As long as this isn't an attempt to fit in, love."

"Dad, don't be boring," Alice sighed, rolling her eyes at him. "You're an actor—act!"

At that precise moment, a third person joined them. Draco flew head first out of the fireplace, bashing himself into Edmund's knees. The two of them groaned in pain, and Alice stifled her laughter, unsure as to whether she was more amused or horrified.

"Dad, this is Draco…" Alice said lamely.

Draco pulled himself to his feet, clutching his head. Her mother's knowledge of Magical Healing was appalling, and so, he would have to settle with having a nasty bruise for the next few days. But it would be quite all right—her parents' cosmetic artist would take care of it easily.

And if it truly was awful, her grandmother was as talented a witch as her mother was awful.

"Hello, Draco," Edmund said cheerily, extending a hand. "Sorry you bashed your head—you alright, mate?"

Draco nodded, rubbing it gingerly. "Hurts like hell—but I'll manage."

Alice glanced at him in surprise. He was one to dramatize an injury—why the sudden deviation from habit? He glanced back at her, before his eyes darted to his father, a strange attentiveness taking over him.

 _What on earth is he doing?_ Alice pondered, watching as Draco firmly shook her father's hand, and complimented him on his tie. It was green and silver, almost identical to the tie Alice wore every day for classes. _Typical._

"Alice, love!" Dymphna squealed, rushing over to the group. "Oh dear, you've gotten shorter!"

Alice frowned, her face flushed once more. "Mum, you're in heels… I've always been this tall."

Dymphna glanced down at the floor in surprise. "Oh, silly me—I forgot to remove that enchantment. I hope you don't mind, love."

She gestured towards Draco, before grasping her wand. She muttered a few words underneath her breath, and suddenly, Dymphna began to shrink. Her previously long and lithe legs became just a few inches shorter, with the bones crackling as they were compacted.

Draco's jaw dropped.

Dymphna smiled, filled with pride. "I bet Alice darling has been telling you all about what an awful witch her mother is—but it's not every day you see self transfiguration, hmm?"

Her eyes twinkled, and Draco continued to stare at her, treating her like a marvel. Alice groaned, wishing that he had found the sight gross, rather than fascinating. Everyone would constantly adore her mother and lavish her, merely because she could perform a few party favors. It didn't matter to them that Dymphna could hardly cast a shield charm—it only mattered that she could make her legs longer, and her voice louder.

"She… She did sort of say that," Draco admitted, throwing an apologetic glance at Alice.

"You hardly passed your Charms OWL," Alice groaned, rolling her eyes at her mother. "Honestly, how can you even call yourself a witch?"

Dymphna ignored her. They'd been through this conversation more times than either would care to admit, and neither one was willing to give in to the other. On one occasion, it had lasted for nine months, only to be interrupted when Alice landed a minor part while her mother was filming, and they both had to be sent to separate locations.

Dymphna's smile crinkled, holding her hand out to Draco. "Best be off—but not to worry, dear, I got my license just a few months ago."

Draco frowned. "Hold on? You've only been apparating for—"

Highly impatient, Dymphna snatched Draco's hand. Edmund took Alice's and grabbed onto his wife, and in an instant, they were gone. Only empty space remained.

The bartender sighed, glancing at the drinks Dymphna and Edmund had purchased.

"I don't suppose you're going to pay for those, then," the bartender grumbled. "Freeloaders."

* * *

"Honey, who is your friend?" the stylist asked, washing Alice's dirty black hair.

She sighed, having answered this question several times. "His name is Draco."

"Draco?" the stylist scoffed, running shampoo through her curls. "What kind of name is that? Chinese or something?"

"It's actually Azkabanian," Alice fibbed. Imagining Draco being born in a country that consisted only of Azkaban inmates amused her slightly, yet it didn't replace the impending sense of doom. Her father and Draco were alone in another room, each of them being pampered and prepared for the ceremony later that night.

Deep down, Alice just knew it—her father was going to ruin everything.

"That's exotic!" the stylist gushed, washing the shampoo out of her hair. "He likes you, dear. I always can tell."

Alice groaned a bit. Hollywood was obsessed with dating, forcing it onto children who were hardly old enough to have an idea of what they wanted out of life. The entire time since she had been back in this life, it was all any adult cared about. Even the publicist complimented her on having such a photogenic friend—they were selling her "young love" to the tabloids, the only reason she was required to bring Draco in the first place.

"That's just fantastic," Alice muttered, sitting up as the stylist began drying her hair. "I've always wanted a boy to fall in love with me before I even go through puberty."

The stylist laughed, as if she had just said something incredibly funny. Alice grimaced, wishing that the ceremony would end already, so that way she could return to school. The Heir of Slytherin murdering her was certainly preferable to this.

"Oh, I know dear," the stylist grinned, finishing drying her hair. "Now, I'm going to put this up for you, and then you'll need to get changed."

Alice nodded, sitting there numbly as the stylist braided her hair intricately. She had long since mastered the art of allowing people to pull at her face without showing any sign of weakness. And to the stylist's credit, she finished within ten minutes. They had decided against makeup, thinking that Alice was a bit too young for it—they'd apply some next year, certainly.

Once the stylist left, she found an emerald green dress set aside for her. Alice laughed wearily, sensing a theme from her parents. Undoubtedly, they wanted to express their pride—they knew that she was currently sitting at the top of her class. This was the only way they knew how.

Clad in the dress, Alice grabbed her small amount of belongings, exiting the room and entering the hall. Draco and her would arrive at the ceremony after her parents, as per the instructions of the publicist. Everything was staged to give off the correct image to casting directs, photographers, reporters, and fellow actors and actresses.

"Oh, Draco!" Alice called out.

He was dressed to match, wearing a sleek suit and a green tie. His hair had been carefully combed and styled to avoid the bruise, and a hint of mascara accented his eyes. By any sort of standards, he was completely gorgeous, yet his face ruined it. He was livid.

"Holmes! Your father is a piece of muggle scum!" Draco snarled.

Her heart stopped.


	17. Chapter 17

Tears welled up in her eyes, as she stared at Draco in horror. He sneered thickly, raising his wand in preparation to attack. Her heart was unresponsive, and her head felt lighter than air. At any moment, she was bound to faint.

"Wh-what do you mean?" she stammered, slowly walking backwards as Draco advanced.

Draco laughed, cracking his neck as he tilted his head from side to side. The motion seemed almost robotic, or as if this was the first time in ages that Draco had been in human form. Her vision blurred with panic and fear, and very distantly, she felt her back hit the wall behind her.

It was a dead end.

"Did you really think you could have kept it from me, you filthy little mudblood?" Draco sneered.

"I'm—I'm not a mudblood!" Alice stammered. "Honest, my mother is pureblood!"

He rolled his eyes. "Dymphna Blackstone is a sorry excuse for a squib and you know it. I fancy she was adopted—there's no way she's a _real_ Blackstone."

Her vision cleared momentarily, enough to accent the pale, cool qualities of Draco's face. His skin stretched out like snakeskin, gleaming with a noxious light. Gulping once more, Alice's hands trembled, unable to do anything to defend herself. He was a second year, from the Malfoy family—he knew things she hadn't yet dreamed of.

"Are you going to kill me?" Alice whimpered, watching as Draco pointed his wand directly at her.

He snickered. "What else do we do with mudbloods?"

His eyes were like slits, and Alice plucked her own wand out, her hands trembling excessively. Draco's lips parted slightly, and in a split second, a flash of red light darted out of her wand, hitting him squarely in the chest.

She let out a sigh of relief, expecting to watch Draco fall to the floor. She couldn't even recall what spell she had cast, if she had cast a spell at all—all she knew was that red light collided into him.

"Honestly, Holmes, you call yourself a witch," Draco laughed, completely unfazed. "Stunning spells aren't going to save you this time—I've got something _fun_ planned for you, my filthy little friend."

Alice gulped, her vision changing into strange shades of red, blue, green, and purple. Draco pointed his wand at her tauntingly once more, before whispering the dreaded incantation.

" _Crucio!"_

Instantly, her vision went dark. Falling to the ground, tiny razors ravaged her body, and she screamed in pain. Her screams were distant to her own ear, as all she could hear was Draco's snake like laughter.

"This is what filthy mudbloods get!" Draco laughed, shouting triumphantly. "Marie's next, Holmes!"

The pain didn't cease. It only increased, to the extent that it would break the strongest soul on contact. The horrors Alice felt were beyond description, and beyond the imagination of the darkest criminal. Crying in pain, she knew she was calling for someone, yet she wasn't certain as to whom.

" _Riddikulus!"_ a stern voice shouted, an edge of panic creeping into it, and suddenly, the torture ceased.

Her vision slowly returned to her, and she shrieked in fear as she saw Draco's face bending over her. He looked human again, and furthermore, incredibly confused. His lip had bled a bit from nervousness, and he glanced around, as if he had seen a ghost.

"Please don't hurt me!" Alice whimpered, unable to move a single muscle. "Please… Stop…"

Draco's face melted into one of concern. "Why am I your boggart, Alice?"

Yet Alice could not comprehend his words. She remained crouched on the floor, each and every fiber of her being slowly burning. The curse may have been lifted, yet its effects remained to haunt her. Each time she closed her eyes, she saw the snakelike figure laughing and jeering at her, knowing that she was no better than dirt.

A tear escaped her left eye, and she fell silent.

"Alice, that wasn't real," Draco frowned. He touched her shoulder gently.

She flinched, as if his touch was a dozen lashes.

He frowned, peering down at her feeble and broken form. "You do you what a boggart is, right? You've got the ego of a Ravenclaw. I expect you do."

She did not respond.

He sighed, awkwardly glancing around, yet the corridor was vacant. Clearly, no one was too disturbed by the shrieks of pain. "A boggart turns into whatever you fear the most—it wasn't real."

Biting his tongue, Draco recalled the screams that had brought him there. Rather than pleading for help or merely expressing pain, she had shouted his name desperately, begging a thousand apologies. It unnerved him to the slightest.

Finding Alice on the floor tortured by his exact duplicate wasn't exactly how he had imagined this trip to go. She was like a little sister to him—he didn't want to hurt her.

"Alice, talk to me or we'll have to take you to St. Mungo's," Draco warned. "Though, actually, St. Christine's is probably much closer…"

He glanced down at her with worry, watching as her eyes gazed forward, without any hint of focus. Delicately attempting to raise her, he found that a few of her hairs were a shock of white. An old wizarding legend claimed that in some instances, the Cruciatus Curse would turn the victim's hair white.

He wasn't sure what to think of the situation, and settled for carrying Alice to someone who would better know how to help. The only knowledge of magical healing he had was that it was ill advised to allow Professor Lockhart to attempt _anything_ to help the injured or the sick.

Though, it had been remarkably funny when Potter had lost all of the bones in his arms. Draco wished it had been his spine—then everyone would have been able to see Potter was no more than a spineless idiot.

* * *

Alice opened her eyes, and stared directly into the face of Narcissa Malfoy.

"Oh, good, you've woken up," Mrs. Malfoy beamed softly. "Draco was quite worried about you."

The boggart attack came rushing back to Alice, and for a moment, she remained paralyzed with fear. _Maybe Draco does know_ , she pondered, gulping. _I haven't been awake to stop him from finding out…_

"I saw your mother perform once," Mrs. Malfoy mused. "She wasn't all too shabby—anyone who allows themselves to be transfigured into a pumpkin for a performance certainly has my respect."

Alice paused for a moment, before remembering that particular rendition of _Cinderella_. The script had been edited to have Cinderella be upstaged by the pumpkin girl, and in the end, she watched with agony as the pumpkin girl ended up marrying the prince. It was a bizarre take on it, but then again, most wizard theater is bizarre to begin with.

"Thanks," Alice whispered softly, her voice hoarse and her throat dry. She could hardly speak, and she gulped, desperately hoping for saliva to remedy her issues, but it was to no avail.

"Your parents have some other commitments," Mrs. Malfoy explained. "My husband and I are looking after you, before bringing you back to Hogwarts with Draco."

Her face flushed. _Draco's parents are taking care of me? That doesn't seem real…._ For a moment, she fancied that it was all an incredibly bad dream.

"I know about your father," Mrs. Malfoy said pointedly. "It isn't your fault that your mother married him. We all make mistakes."

Alice frowned a bit, torn between vying for acceptance and defending her father.

"Half bloods are common in our society," Mrs. Malfoy continued. "You don't need to be pureblood, dear. Draco fancies you already."

Alice swallowed thickly, attempting to avoid Mrs. Malfoy's gaze. She was hardly even twelve years old, to begin with. It wasn't the time for people to be swooning over each other and snogging in broom cupboards.

"But I suggest you don't advertise your heritage," Mrs. Malfoy said, a twinkle of amusement in her eyes. "There are forces at play, Alice, that you do not understand."

"I think I understand just fine, thanks," Alice quipped. She knew all about the Chamber of Secrets, and how there was a target on her head. Sooner or later, she would duel with the creature, in a desperate attempt to live.

And even if she did live, her housemates would ostracize her all the same. It was a question of surviving at this point, not living or dying.

"I know you do," Narcissa said softly. "You made the correct decision, becoming friends with Draco. Some wizards are better than others."

Alice nodded, not daring to argue. Her indoctrination became more and more complete with each and every passing hour. She didn't even recall Marie, the genius muggleborn, or the other students at the school who weren't born into magical families.

She only remembered herself.

"You best get some rest," Narcissa advised. "Unforgiveable Curses aren't very easy to recover from."

* * *

A week later, Alice and Draco returned to Hogwarts.

Several times throughout her stay at St. Christine's, a private hospital for the magically well connected, Draco had pestered her about the boggart. And each time he did so, she would pretend to drift off into sleep due to the excessive amount of Calming Draught the healers insisted on giving her. By the time they returned to Hogwarts, he had dropped the subject entirely.

That didn't mean that rumors hadn't spread. _The Quibbler,_ a convoluted conspiracy magazine, had released an account of what happened to Alice at the Golden Globes. Given that she was only the daughter of a minor celebrity, the article was shuffled to the back page, with Noxie the talking Hippogriff taking the front page. The article, nonetheless, had stirred up rumors as it claimed:

 _MALFOY and HOLMES to elope! Young Alice Holmes, star of productions such as_ Witching Hour _and_ Whose Spell is It Anyways? _fainted after being proposed to by young bachelor Draco Malfoy! Due to their young age, the marriage is scheduled for—_

She hadn't cared to read any further than that. The rest of the school had filled her in on the remainder of the article, yet her parents couldn't have been more pleased. The publicity had gotten _more_ directors clamoring for Alice to audition for parts, though she declined them all.

 _Leave them for the idiots at WADA,_ had been her rather curt reply. _They live for that sort of thing._

Edwina and Margo had been attempting to pry it out of her as well. For a moment, she continued informing Edwina, a pureblood supremacist, that her boggart was Draco learning of her true parentage. Margo might have been fine with the knowledge, yet she couldn't keep a secret to save her life.

It was a wonder she had made Slytherin the in the first place.

"Honestly, tell us!" Edwina whined, slamming _Hogwarts, A History_ down on her seat in Professor Garter's room.

Alice shook her head. "Ask me one more time, or I'll tell Professor Garter you're related to Sebastian Fawley."

Edwina's eyes widened. A distant relative of hers had helped in the founding of the most popular American wizarding institution—whose name escaped Alice constantly. Professor Garter, being the knowledge snob that he was, wouldn't be able to resist asking her a thousand questions about it all.

He'd perhaps be done questioning her by the time they were ready to sit their O.W.L.s.

"You wouldn't dare!" Edwina squeaked.

"Then stop asking me about it," Alice snickered, smirking slightly as she took out her essay on the influence of the Spanish Inquisition in modern day wizarding laws.

Edwina grumbled, yet conceded to Alice's wisdom. "I'll know eventually, Al… Mark my words…"

"Oh, naff off, Eddie," Alice snickered, winking in her direction.

"MISS HOLMES!" Professor Garter shouted. "You will _not_ use such language in this classroom, unless you'd enjoy to have a detention, hmm?"

Alice's face paled, and she shook her head desperately. Professor Garter got a gleam in his eye, one that every student had learned to fear. He came up with the most gruesome detentions; to the extent that one student had pleaded his parents to remove him from Hogwarts so that way he wouldn't have to serve it.

"I thought so," Professor Garter smirked. "Tell me, Miss Holmes, in what year did the Fourth Centaur War end?"

Alice blinked for a second. "Sir, there's no such thing—there never even was a first."

He nodded at her. "Correct, Miss Holmes. Now, which Order of Merlin was awarded to Conner Liamsworth, author of _Wand of a Kind?_ "

"First Class," Alice responded quickly. "Though, he didn't earn it for that, sir… He earned it for valiantly defending Hogwarts against werewolf attacks while he was just a student, sir."

Nodding once more, Professor Garter smiled slyly. "Perhaps next time, rather than cursing at your fellow classmates, you would consider contributing to the discussion with your immense wealth of knowledge, hmm, Miss Holmes?"

Her face turned magenta, and she nodded, sinking into her seat quickly. History of Magic was her best subject, much to her dismay. She wished it had been Charms or Transfiguration—something practical that would allow her to achieve her goal of becoming the most powerful witch in the world.

Instead, she was suited towards books, and memorizing obscure dates. _Typical._

"Professor Garter, do you think the attacks really have stopped?" Marie blurted, her hand dropping from its position in the air. Evidently, she had been dying to get his attention for a while.

Professor Garter paused, frowning for a moment as he digested the question. "No—but nonetheless, enjoy the remainder of the week. Tomorrow's Valentine's Day—I suppose you're too young to be too excited, but they'll be serving pudding."

He nodded, signaling that they would return to the scheduled content. They had a lot of history to cover today—much more than, as far as Alice could tell, students with Professor Binns were learning. Professor Garter was a bit of an overachiever, so it did make sense that he was a former Slytherin. He was emblematic of the best parts of their house.

"Sir, do you think Harry Potter could be the Heir of Slytherin?" Alice squeaked, attempting to appear poised and confident.

He paused once more, before chuckling sadly to himself. "All pureblood families are related to a certain extent. The Potter family happened to be one of these—so yes, it is likely that Harry Potter carries some of Slytherin's blood."

Turning to take in the excited glances of everyone in the class, Professor Garter smiled pridefully. "Yet Harry Potter is no more the Heir of Slytherin than I am a toad. He doesn't carry this nonsense prejudice about him. You know, it used to be that muggleborns were thought to be _better_ than purebloods at all sort of things. The stigma towards them today is ironic."

Edwina frowned distastefully, regarding Professor Garter as if he was indeed a toad.

"Who do you think is the Heir of Slytherin then, sir?" Alice asked, her voice wavering slightly.

The sooner she knew who would be out to kill her, the better. She couldn't defeat a foe she didn't know—once she had the name, then, she could plan the next phase in her survival strategy.

"The Heir of Slytherin, according to legend, can control the monster within the Chamber of Secrets," Professor Garter murmured. "I fancy that it could be anyone in this school who finds it apt to belittle others off of something as petty as blood status. Now, if that's all, I'd very much like to return to the lesson."

Alice quieted down, taking a moment to mull over the information. As far as she was aware, everyone with prejudice had been sorted into her own house. Any of them could sneak into her dormitory and send out the monster to devour her, to petrify her, to kill her. A shiver traveled down her spine as she gazed at Edwina—it easily could have been her.

Gulping slightly, Alice took out a fresh piece of parchment, and jotted down the names of each person she could think of who had ever championed pureblood supremacy. It would be a long list, but at least, it would give her some peace of mind.

 _It still could be Draco,_ she thought to herself warily. _Maybe he lied in front of them because I was there—and no one else has been boasting about being the Heir of Slytherin, you think they would…._

 _Unless it's not a Slytherin after all?_ She pondered, her thoughts entirely circular for the remainder of the lesson. A more disturbing question continued to weigh on her mind, however.

No one knew how a boggart ended up attacking Alice in the first place.


	18. Chapter 18

Alice woke up to a fat, hairy dwarf sitting on her bed. It blinked at her expectantly, and she stared back at it, uncertain as to how to react. Professor Lockhart's books always claimed that it was often best to pretend to be dead when encountering a new sort of creature, as most creatures don't want to bother with dead people.

Funnily enough, his advice was suspect to her still.

"Can I help you?" Alice whispered, her eyes darting towards the other beds in the dormitory.

All of her housemates were fast asleep, avoiding the sickening reality that their classes would still have to commence that day. The older students were acting sickeningly sweet, dashing around and making plans to sneak out of the school, and bickering over whether or not they had called dibs on a particular broom cupboard. No one in the dormitory stirred at all, leaving Alice completely alone with the dwarf.

It was then that she took in more of the dwarf's curious features. A pair of crudely made wings was glued onto its back, and it wore a soiled pink loincloth. In its hands, it held a battered and scratched harp. The shoddy craftsmanship of it all could mean only one thing, as far as Alice was concerned.

Lockhart was being an idiot once again.

"I have a message for Miss Alice Holmes!" the dwarf squeaked, before brushing the harp tenderly. "This message shall be delivered in song!"

Alice blinked once again. _This is too weird, even for that lilac loving git. Perhaps I've finally lost it… Or Eddie slipped something into my pumpkin juice._

"Is it… a happy song?" Alice asked slowly. "I don't really like happy songs—they're too cheerful for me to take them seriously."

The dwarf smirked, somehow turning the benevolent, if not entirely odd, cupid persona into that of a malicious devil. Alice gulped, attempting to scoot back in her bed, yet the weight of the hairy dwarf kept her pinned in place. She was helpless.

" _Oh, you are such a naughty, naughty little brat!_

 _I know your father's a muggle, and that's that!_

 _If you think that you're safe in Slytherin,_

 _Beware of the mortal danger you're in!"_

The dwarf hopped off of the bed, and winked at Alice. "Would you like to reply to the message, Miss Alice Holmes?"

Alice felt her heart accelerate, as her pulse quickened and felt like the beat of a war drum. However, she couldn't be certain if it was the call to arms, or the call to retreat—she was stunned beyond belief.

"Er, yes… Who sent that?" Alice croaked, hardly able to avoid stammering and swallowing her own tongue in the process.

The cupid-dwarf paused, as one of its wings snapped and fell, hanging at a crooked angle. "The Heir of Slytherin sends his regards."

The hairy little thing then bowed, sweeping its head practically to the floor, and mooning half of the dormitory in the process, before exiting the dormitory completely. Alice's muscles refused her will to run after the dwarf and force him to tell her more. Instead, she could only sit there in dismay, feeling as if she had been sentenced to death once more.

 _Could it be the person who had sent me that boggart?_ Alice wondered sadly, glancing over at the sleeping forms of her housemates. None of them seemed to be awake, yet easily, they could have just been pretending. For all she knew, the entire school knew that she was a liar, and that she had been born from the wicked mixing of muggle and magical blood…

Yet more concerning, the Heir of Slytherin knew of her crimes. Her each and every breath was an affront to the ideals of her very own house—it didn't matter what Narcissa Malfoy claimed. Salazar Slytherin had been quite clear. A death sentence had been placed upon her, as her mother had married a muggle.

She wasn't even entirely certain her mother actually was much of a witch. The _Kwikspell_ curriculum continued to be a challenge for her. It didn't matter if her mother could perform some selected, amazing feats—most of the time, she relied on having extra runes and charmed objects about her in order to simply clean a room. Logically, she knew that her mother couldn't be a squib—any act of magic her mother performed for her career proved that fact.

However, prejudice wasn't logical. As far as Alice was concerned, her mother was a squib. And now, it seemed that the Heir of Slytherin agreed.

Alice cast a glance over towards her sleeping friends, and quickly came to a decision. It was time to take action.

* * *

She had dressed in a hurry, and quickly made her way to the only safe haven she could think of: Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Most of the students flocked towards the Great Hall, grumbling and groaning as they realized that they'd have to spend their holiday in class.

Alice, however, went against the flow of the crowd, narrowly escaping into the bathroom. And just as she had expected, it was entirely deserted. Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, and Ron Weasley had stopped coming back to the bathroom around Christmas. They hadn't left without a trace, however.

She had found it about a week ago, sitting forgotten in the middle stall. A single vial, filled with a strange sort of potion. She had no notion of what it was, yet she'd stashed it behind a loose tile all the same, convinced that it might help her.

"I see you've come back," Myrtle sniffed. "Back to drink some of that potion, hmm? You should've seen the other one… She was a cat!"

Myrtle giggled, before flying in a loop and soaring up towards the high ceiling. Beaming down at Alice, Alice couldn't help but snatch out the mysterious potion, staring at its vile contents. It had turned a mild shade of auburn since she last saw it, and Alice couldn't help but stare at it with trepidation.

"What is this, Myrtle?" Alice asked, peering at the vial closer.

Myrtle laughed, before floating down next to Alice. "Now you want to talk to me, I see! Never want to talk to me until you need to know something—Potter's the same way…"

Alice sighed. "Please, tell me what this potion does—I promise I'll come and visit you more often either way. But I can't do that if I'm dead, now can I?"

Myrtle sobered slightly, a pained look slipping onto her face. "I don't know the name of it, but… Well, Potter and his friend turned into other people when they drank it."

Alice frowned. "And when was this, Myrtle?"

"Christmas," Myrtle replied, before sinking low to the floor. "I haven't seen them since… Those rubbish boys! No one cares about poor Myrtle!"

Alice had to stop herself from verbally agreeing. Instead, she focused on something far more captivating. She peered down at the vial. _This made them look different—they became someone else…_ The tension was palpable, as she stared down at what could very well be the solution to her problem.

 _They can't kill me if they can't find me,_ Alice reasoned, swishing the contents of the vial around.

"Say, did the boys happen to put on Slytherin robes?" Alice asked, realization dawning upon her.

Myrtle nodded. "Why?"

Alice's eyes grew wide with a certain type of insanity. "I knew it!" she boasted. It all made sense now, how Crabbe and Goyle had been behaving so strangely that night. It must have been Potter and Weasley in disguise. That had to have been what they were planning.

There was no way that Crabbe and Goyle could have suddenly become so intelligent. She smirked, priding herself on understanding a little bit more of the mystery, and she gazed down at the potion. She didn't care whom it would turn her into—all that mattered is that it would keep her safe in the direst of situations. She slipped the potion into the pocket of her cloak, before turning to exit the bathroom.

"Leaving already?" Myrtle moaned, floating up towards the ceiling once more.

Alice hesitated, and turned back around to face Myrtle. "'Course not," Alice offered. "We can just talk, if you'd like."

Myrtle wailed softly, nodding her head slightly. "Why are going to die, Alice?"

Alice paused, taken aback by the bluntness of it. Perhaps she and Myrtle had more in common than she had previously thought. "Someone is trying to kill me."

"Why?" Myrtle whined like an irritating child.

"My father is a muggle and my mother is a horrid excuse for a witch," Alice sniffed, her pride slightly damaged.

Myrtle hesitated, as if willing to divulge a great secret to Alice. Instead, she hiccoughed and flew back up towards the ceiling, sniffling the entire time. "I wouldn't look anyone in the eye if I were you, Alice!"

Alice slumped her shoulders. _Even the wailing ghost thinks I'm rubbish—this is just fantastic._ "I have to run off to Charms, Myrtle… I'll see you later, maybe."

She turned and left the bathroom, and as Myrtle looked on at Alice's retreating back, she couldn't see her tears.

* * *

Alice walked briskly to Charms, before most students have finished shoveling food into their faces. They had a good hour or so to feast every morning, and most of the teachers didn't mind too much if a student showed up a bit early to class. In fact, Professor Flitwick tended to be there early as well.

Today, however, no one was in the room. Not even one of the idiotic cupid-dwarves was there to bother her, and Alice sat down at her desk in the very front of the room, and began to cry. There was no one to see her shame, and she wallowed in it. Her eyes became red and puffy, stained with the salt of her tears.

Never before had she felt so alone. The most pathetic being in the castle thought she was a wretch as well. The only people who would possibly have any sympathy for her were sworn enemies—Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. They wouldn't dare be seen comforting a Slytherin, no matter how supposedly kind or decent they were.

And she could hardly explain to any of her housemates about her situation. They would judge her as well. Narcissa Malfoy was wrong—her situation was just as bad as that of the mudbloods. She was no different than they were. She couldn't escape the stigma and the strife.

 _Maybe I should just let them kill me,_ Alice thought dejectedly, sobbing into the lining of her cloak. She recalled those foolish moments from before, when she decided to begin the masquerade. She would not be able to become the greatest witch who ever lived—in fact, she'd be lucky if she survived at all. The attacks may seem to have ceased, yet she knew it wouldn't be so for long.

 _I'll be the next to die,_ Alice thought woefully. Her mind flickerd to W.A.D.A.—they'd still accept her with open arms. She was a legacy, a product of one of their most well known graduates. They'd eagerly take her. The transfer paperwork would be waived, and in less than a week, she would be taken away from this place.

Yet she would have to give up on her dream, and live a life she never wanted. Was it worth it to sacrifice her passions in order to survive? Was it nobler to die living the life she wanted, rather than one her parents had selected for her? All these questions rushed through her head, and she wasn't certain as to how to answer them.

Fortunately, she didn't have to. The door creaked open and she quickly dried her eyes, plastering a false smile onto her face. Professor Flitwick made his way inside, followed by a gaggle of Hufflepuffs and Slytherins, all eager to begin the lesson. Marie quickly caught sight of Alice, and her expression changed to horror.

Alice squirmed, as Marie rushed over towards her, practically slamming her bag down onto the desk beside her. "You've been crying, Holmes. Fess up or I'm going to hug you to death!"

She chuckled weakly, avoiding Marie's concerned eyes. Instead, she focused on the trim of Marie's cloak—it was considerably more yellow than the one she had before. It had turned nearly black from soot, as Hufflepuff had a bit of a tradition of messing around with fires in the cellars. According to the rumors, they made S'mores each night.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Alice lied, pulling out her quill, ink, and a fresh sheet of parchment. "Did you complete the essay he assigned? I had a—"

"You're a horrible liar, Alice," Marie interjected. "And I'm not kidding about the hugging thing! You better fess up!"

Alice paused. Marie already knew of her parentage, yet just a few rows over, Edwina and Margo were chatting together. Beyond them, she could see Gale and Armelle, as well as Harper. It was far too dangerous for her to be speaking of this here—any of them could learn of her secret, and then, it would spread like wildfire.

 _That's if they don't already know…_ Alice thought.

"I've been threatened," Alice whispered, avoiding Marie's gaze. "It's nothing—just leave it alone."

Marie frowned, pulling her wand out of her bag ominously. "Alice…"

"Someone wants to kill me," Alice whispered, the hair on the back of her neck standing up, completely petrified that someone might overhear.

"Who?" Marie gasped, completely terrified and enthralled with the situation. Her penchant for gossip and rumors got the best of her, at times. She claimed that _the Quibbler_ had already offered her an internship, with the goal that she would become one of their best conspiracy columnists.

"The Heir," Alice whispered back, nervously watching as Professor Flitwick began drawing all over the chalkboard, jumping and hopping to reach the higher up areas. Someone had "misplaced" his pile of books, and it seemed he had temporarily forgotten he could merely enchant the chalk to write for him.

Marie's eyes widened, and she stared frantically around the classroom, as if the Heir of Slytherin was sitting in the very classroom with them. Perhaps they were. Alice gulped, staring at Edwina's back—it was very possible that Edwina was the culprit between them all.

 _But she's my friend,_ Alice reasoned. _She wouldn't try to hurt me, would she?_ Alice stared at her, watching as her friend frantically scribbled down notes. It would make sense as to how the Heir had sent the boggart after her—hardly anyone knew that Alice was at the Golden Globes.

"Do you know who it is?" Marie whispered back.

Alice stared at Edwina, and said nothing.


	19. Chapter 19

Marie didn't speak another word on the subject to Alice until the end of the lesson. Professor Flitwick had been teaching them a brief bit of history on the Unlocking Charm, going into the various precautions that could be used against it. No one paid much attention to him, as instead, everyone chattered on about the upcoming Quidditch match. And besides, security in their life after Hogwarts was a distant concern.

Alice placed her quill and ink back in her bag securely, cleaning up as slowly as possible at the end of the lecture. She watched with wary eyes as her fellow students vacated the classroom in groups, and pretended to ignore Margo and Edwina's requests for her to accompany them to Potions.

"Alice, are we going to talk about this?" Marie finally asked, with only Professor Flitwick left in the room.

Alice darted a glance over at the clumsy professor, watching as he attempted to heave a particularly heavy copy of _The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 5)_ on top of a pile. Once again, his wand sat neglected, an irony that Alice wasn't in the mood to savor. Those jokes would have to wait for another moment.

"I haven't the faintest idea what you mean," Alice lied, placing her textbook into her bag, and slinging it over her shoulder. The ink and quills rattled against it as she did so, and her stomach churned, as if it were the rattle of a snake.

Marie frowned. "You really need to stop doing that—I'm not stupid, you know."

"I never said you were," Alice quipped. "I'm going to be late to Potions—I don't exactly have time now to talk about my emotions."

She darted out of the room, with Marie close behind. The door slammed shut behind them, startling Professor Flitwick so much that he fell off of the pile, and it toppled to the ground. His hair was disheveled as he stared at the door, only to quickly be distracted by a distraught, almost haunted looking Ginny Weasley.

Meanwhile, Marie continued to incessantly pester Alice.

"You could go to Dumbledore!" Marie suggested eagerly. "He'll be able to do something about this!"

Alice frowned, before muttering darkly. "Draco says Dumbledore won't be around here much longer—the school governors are discussing removing him."

Marie's eyes widened. "And you're telling me this _now?!_ But that's silly! No one has been attacked in _ages_!"

Alice shrugged. She didn't particularly agree with the decision, but most of Slytherin house seemed to favor a change in the headmaster. Apparently, Dumbledore had purposefully favored Gryffindor last year with last minute points for nothing in particular. He favored his old house to an extent that rivaled Snape's. Some likened that Snape would then be his replacement, yet Alice thought otherwise: Professor McGonagall was the ideal candidate, especially given that she was the deputy headmistress.

"It didn't seem really important," Alice explained. "Draco goes on about all sorts of things that are never going to happen."

Marie's nostrils flared, yet she quickly cooled down, changing tactics and returning to the earlier line of conversation. "Well, he's still here now—and I'm certain he'll be able to put a stop to this quickly enough. There's got to be a record somewhere of who sent dwarves out with messages."

Alice stopped in her tracks. "What did you say?"

"I said, he's still here," Marie repeated, huffing slightly. "Honestly, if you'd only listen to half of the things I said, then—"

Alice shook her head. "No, after that, Marie—what you were saying about a list."

Marie paused, frowning slightly in confusion. "I said there must be a list somewhere of who sent dwarves out with messages—some sort of record of the business transaction. It's common sense. Even Lockhart knows that."

Alice's eyes brightened, and she took off with a dash, heading towards the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Professor Snape would understand if she were late to Potions; after all, she was a Slytherin. And once she explained that she had received a threat (likely to originate from Gryffindor), he would let her off without a single punishment.

It was good to be green.

* * *

Lockhart's classroom was unusually empty. Everywhere Alice looked, his painted eyes followed her, and the small handful of people who remained inside. A few sixth years were copying over definitions painstakingly as preparation for their N.E.W.T.s that they would undertaken the following year. And there, in the corner, seated at a desk coated in pink was none other than Gilderoy Lockhart himself.

Alice smiled and made her way over, attempting to appear as confident as she could. This way, Lockhart would be less likely to ask her why she was missing class, and then, she could avoid detention. Word around the castle was that detention for him was addressing his fan mail—a task Alice was desperate to avoid. She'd done it far too often for her parents.

"Excuse me, professor, I have a bit of an odd request," Alice said meekly, lowering her head slightly to appear vulnerable, shy, and _innocent_.

Lockhart chuckled, his hair bouncing slightly. "Now, now, it isn't that odd to be in love, even at your age! Why, tell me, is it that Malfoy boy?"

Alice's eyes widened, and a blush spread across her cheeks. _Honestly, why do people always assume I like him? I'm only twelve… Wizards are odd._ "Nothing like that, sir, I just need to have a quick look at the list of people who have sent messages and to who."

Lockhart's eyebrows furrowed for a moment. "I'm afraid the list is confidential, Miss Holmes… Privacy is rather important in this day and age."

Alice nodded, biting her lip slightly. _I'll never live this down,_ she realized grimly, before schooling her features. Allowing her blush to extend, she smiles nervously at Professor Lockhart, batting her eyes slightly.

"You see, sir, I received a singing message and… Well, Valentine's Day would be all the more magical if I knew who sent it," Alice explained. "I'm sure you know what it's like to have a secret admirer, given how famous and gorgeous and lovely you are…"

Lockhart's ears perked up slightly, and a pained look appeared on his face. "Well, er, yes… I do have my fair share of secret admirers, and solving the puzzle is always quite fun!"

"You see, sir, I think it might be Draco who sent me the message…" Alice added, purposefully gazing down, before darting her eyes back up at Lockhart. "Maybe I could send him one back, if only I knew who it was…"

She let silence develop between them, watching Lockhart internally debate himself. Her heart stopped beating, as if the very noise of it may have snapped Lockhart out of the spell. It was quite fortunate that she was raised to be an actor—it made lying in situations like these so much easier.

"I suppose there isn't any harm in it," Lockhart said, beaming from ear to ear. "Let me just have a glance at my records to see who purchased it. It'll only be a minute, my little lovesick child!"

"Oh, thank you so much," Alice said, her voice filled with relief. "You're just completely fantastic, sir. I'm so honored to even get to speak with you! You know, my mum dedicated one of her performances to you—you inspired her career as an actress."

Lockhart's eyes widened with excitement, and he quickened his pace, grasping a small sheet of paper from the corner of his desk. An assortment of names was scrawled over it, all of them in the same extraordinarily messy handwriting. It was nearly illegible.

"Right, Hanson…There you are," Lockhart muttered.

"Holmes," Alice corrected. "Like the detective, sir."

Lockhart chuckled. "Sorry, forgive me! I've been signing so many autographs my entire life that names tend to blend together! Oh, it's dreadful being famous, Alice—never try it."

"I'll certainly avoid it, sir," Alice quipped.

"There we are, Holmes," Lockhart grinned, running his finger along the page. "You received one singing message from… Oh, this can't be right. Ginny Weasley."

"I'm sorry, sir? I didn't quite catch that…"

"Ginny Weasley," Lockhart repeated. "Well, Dumbledore did say this school was open minded… I'd prefer if we kept that sort of thing to a minimum, however, Miss Holmes."

Alice's eyes widened. "Er, I'm not… I'm not… Yeah."

Lockhart nodded, before throwing the list aside. "I don't want to have to separate the two of you in class. Run along now, Miss Holmes! I assume you have somewhere to be, though I do understand that basking in my company is a treat. I must be the first celebrity you've met."

"Of course you are, sir," Alice choked, before dashing for the door.

She rounded the corner and found a broom cupboard, and threw the door open, prepared to collapse inside in exhaustion. Instead, she found a Gryffindor prefect fraternizing with a Ravenclaw one.

"Percy!" the girl screamed, hiding her face in embarrassment. "I thought you said no one would find us!"

Alice nearly puked. She didn't need to see students snogging at the moment. Without explaining herself, she slammed the door of the cupboard closed and took off again down the hall, collapsing underneath a window. Her thoughts blended together as the fear and terror coursed through her system.

 _Ginny Weasley wants me dead,_ Alice thought. _I mean, I get that we can be competitive in class but…_

She hesitated, scanning her eyes up and down the corridor. No one was there to see her, and as far as she was aware, Professor Snape may not have even noticed her absence in Potions that day. The news that Ginny Weasley, a Gryffindor, was the Heir of Slytherin was far too much for her.

 _It doesn't make any sense,_ she groaned. Ginny Weasley had no way of knowing that Alice wasn't the pureblood she claimed to be. And furthermore, Ginny was a blood traitor. She didn't adhere to the proper philosophy, and due to that, her entire family had been written off as being lunatics.

 _Maybe that's what makes it genius,_ Alice realized. Ginny could easily be left off the radar of suspects due to her family's views on muggles, allowing her to escape any suspicion. A small first year student, she would be able to travel the school without being noticed much. Her siblings and friends would spill information to her, or perhaps, she could merely eavesdrop on conversations.

No one would have noticed had Ginny Weasley been missing that night in Halloween from the feast. No one would have been looking for a tiny first year among the crowd.

 _It could be her,_ Alice thought, becoming more and more convinced. All pureblood lines eventually would come together, that much she knew. It was unlikely—yet not impossible—that the Weasley family had been descended from Salazar Slytherin. Now, the Heir of Slytherin was out for revenge, to restore things to the natural order.

It was an incredible piece of deception, and it plagued Alice's mind. At least now she knew who to watch out for, and thus, she could better be able to survive. All she would have to do is watch for Ginny Weasley, and if possible, ensure that Ginny would be the one in the Hospital Wing, and not her.

After all, Ginny couldn't kill Alice if she were confined to bed rest.

* * *

The dark and gloomy dungeons seldom welcomed anyone but the Slytherin students, yet today, even Alice felt nervous as she made her way there. As far as she could tell, more than half an hour had passed since the beginning of the double Potions time block. Professor Snape would be furious with any student, yet she wistfully held onto the notion that he couldn't possibly be cross with a Slytherin.

Approaching the entrance to the potions dungeon, she gingerly opened the door, wincing as it creaked loudly. _This castle must have a shortage on oil or something,_ Alice deduced. Silence enveloped the room, with only the hissing of cauldrons set to boil filling the air.

Professor Snape stared at her as she walked in. Briefly meeting his gaze, she then quietly walked towards her seat, pretending that nothing had happened at all. Helen Swift looked at Alice with an expression akin to pity, while the rest of the Ravenclaws watched Snape, seeing as house loyalty was put to the test.

"Miss Holmes, are you aware of when class begins?" Snape asked simply, his eyes narrowing at her.

Alice's heart sank. _This won't end well…_ "Yes, sir."

Snape paused, as if rolling a mental dice to gauge the appropriate punishment. Alice winced, dreading the very worst. "Then tell me, Miss Holmes, why have you appeared to class thirty three minutes after it commenced?"

"Professor Lockhart wouldn't let me go, sir," Alice fibbed. "He wanted me to listen about all of his achievements, sir."

As far as Alice could tell, Professor Snape hated the new professor. If Alice were to express a similar dislike, then perhaps he would be more favorable towards her. She certainly didn't want to be assigned the task of scrubbing all of the cauldrons clean—especially ones the Gryffindors had been using. They always were the most foul to behold.

"And why were you speaking with Professor Lockhart, Miss Holmes?" Snape sneered. "Clearly you need to be reminded of the high standards of Slytherin house."

"I didn't want to speak with him, sir," Alice lied. Though, it was partially true. She never particularly wanted to speak with Lockhart. On this occasion, she rather needed to.

"Miss Holmes, tell me, what are the… values of Slytherin?" Snape questioned, sweeping his way back over towards his desk.

"Ambition, cunning, resiliency, sir," Alice stated quickly.

Snape nodded. "Good—now given that I assume you have an inkling of intelligence, you should have easily been able to deal with a pansy like Lockhart. Fifty points from Slytherin for a lack of judgment and being a disgrace to this house, and you'll be serving a detention tonight at seven. I advise you are not half an hour late for this one, Miss Holmes."

Alice gulped, tears welling up in her eyes. "But…. I understand, sir."

Snape's gaze didn't soften as he stared her down, before returning to the blackboard behind him. He continued to write notes on the Cure for Boils, a potion that apparently even a squib could perform. Alice wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her cloak, the words echoing in her mind still.

 _A disgrace to this house…_ She bit her lip, and instantly, the blood flowed from the cut. It was a habit she had no intention of even trying to break. All sense of community was gone, swallowed up by a gnawing hole in her heart. As far as she was aware, even Professor Snape knew of her deception, of her perilous secret.

 _I really should just transfer to W.A.D.A.,_ Alice lamented, staring down at her notes sadly. Suddenly, the matter of deducing her would-be killer seemed very quaint. If she didn't have the acceptance of Slytherin house, then what point was there in remaining here at Hogwarts?

She sat there sullenly for the rest of the class, and her hopes were crushed when Professor Snape indicated for her to remain behind. Clearly, her scolding had only just begun. Any notion that he favored Slytherin shattered instantly, and she hated the person who had convinced her of it. Had he favored Slytherin, he wouldn't have cared that she came to class late.

"Miss Holmes," Snape nodded, clutching a jar filled with eyeballs. "Come here…now."

Abandoning her belongings at her desk, she slowly made her way to the front of the room. All of the other students had already left, eagerly making their way to the Great Hall, excited at the prospect of finally having lunch.

"Yes, sir?" Alice said quietly, entirely defeated.

"Miss Holmes, tell me why you were late to class," Snape ordered.

"I told you already, professor," Alice responded.

He shook his head. "The truth, Miss Holmes. I expect nothing less from my students."

She nodded, taking a deep breath. "This morning I got a singing message and… It had a death threat in it. I was trying to figure out who sent it."

"Miss Holmes, did it ever occur to you to report this threat?" Snape asked, a single eyebrow arched.

"I… I thought about it but…," she paused, "it was from the Heir of Slytherin. They told me that I'm… I'm next."

Snape nodded quietly. "And did you find out who sent you the note?"

She hesitated, biting her lip. She hardly believed that it was Ginny Weasley, and yet, it seemed to have been the only answer. Ginny would be expelled instantly if Alice told Snape—yet still, Alice had no reason to protect her.

"I almost have, sir," Alice responded quietly.

"One hundred points to Slytherin for resourcefulness," Snape muttered. "No need to come to detention, Miss Holmes. I have a Weasley coming instead."

Alice nodded gratefully, and collected her things from her desk. Snape nodded at her curtly and she left the dungeon, heading towards the stairs that would take her as well to the Great Hall. Indecision and fear plagued her mind, contemplating whether or not she should have identified Ginny to Professor Snape.

 _Innocent until proven guilty,_ Alice reminded herself. _That's how they do it in America—one of the few things they haven't got wrong._ However, uncertainty continued to control her as she made her way up the stairs. If Ginny Weasley truly were the Heir of Slytherin, then more people may be hurt because of Alice's actions.

And if it weren't her, then the true Heir of Slytherin could remain at large, with the faculty placated thinking they had found the culprit.

"Oi, Potter!" Draco's voice boasted, as Alice noticed a large gathering at the top of the staircase. "Writing in a diary now are you? Bet you and your girlfriend have that in common!"

Alice snickered despite of herself, rushing a bit to make it into the clearing. A gaggle of Weasleys stood facing a group of Slytherins, as Harry Potter scrambled to pick up all of his belongings. Ink soiled them all, and Draco grinned, while a girl with ginger hair looked on in fear.

 _Ginny,_ Alice realized quickly. Her own eyes widened and her heart skipped a beat. _She could try and kill me at any moment…_

"Lay off, Malfoy!" Potter shouted, fighting off a colorful dwarf at the same time. "It's none of your business, you git!"

Draco's nostrils flared. "My father is going to sack Dumbledore, Potter! Best enjoy your protection while it lasts! You'll be next!"

Harry rolled his eyes, picking up the diary. Strangely, not a single drop of ink seemed to have fallen on it. Alice frowned at it in confusion, before noticing that Ginny seemed captivated by it as well.

Only instead of confusion, Ginny bore a look of pure terror. Alice looked for anything frightening, yet there was no denying what Ginny was staring at. She regarded the diary as if it were the grim, prepared to drag Ginny and everyone she cared about to her death.

 _That's nonsense,_ Alice decided. _No one's ever died on the account of a diary…Something else must be going on._


	20. Chapter 20

The last attacks had been four months ago, yet that hadn't stopped Alice from reviewing a book of defensive jinxes and hexes every chance she got. Her marks in Defense Against the Dark Arts had improved considerably, though it was more likely that was from her constant flattering of Lockhart. And true to her claims, her mother had sent him an autographed playbill, boosting her grade in the class considerably.

With Creevey in the Hospital Wing and Alice certain that Ginny Weasley was out for blood, she had managed to convince Lockhart to have her sit next to Pagan. Pagan hadn't exactly appreciated being split up from her friend Reagan, yet she had no quarrel with Alice—she hadn't the faintest idea why the seats had been changed for the first time all year that morning.

It was thus a wet April morning that found Alice putting her hair into tight, Wednesday Addams-esque braids, and waiting with eager excitement for the Quidditch match that day. Gryffindor was playing Hufflepuff, yet that didn't decrease her enthusiasm. If Hufflepuff were to take the victory, according Bronwyn and Flint's careful plotting, Slytherin would be able to claim the Quidditch Cup. Gryffindor's chasers would never be able to make up the loss of a snitch catch, they reasoned.

Unfortunately, the older students had already deemed it unethical to slip Hufflepuff's team some performance boosting potions. It wasn't unusual to Slytherin to bend the rules when it came to matches—for example, there was a rule against players administering performance-enhancing potions to themselves. It didn't say anything about them unwittingly being slipped it by someone else.

"Al, how can you possibly have a decent grade in History of Magic?" Edwina grumbled, slamming her textbook shut. A cloud of dust scattered out of it, and Alice tried to stifle her laughter.

"Maybe if you actually read, you would," Alice teased. "Professor Garter is really big into the entire reading thing."

Edwina rolled her eyes, shoving a green and silver beanie onto her head. "I just really couldn't care where Hufflepuff came from. It's not like we need to know that when we grow up."

Alice grinned, the fears and worries of her secret momentarily vanishing. For the most part, nothing dreadful had happened after she received that brutal singing message. Her friends continued to be cordial towards her, and she crafted new, brilliant memories each and every day. The entire ordeal felt like a nightmare now—as if it had never happened.

"Professor Garter just asks a lot," Margo chimed in, emerging fully dressed. "He isn't like Snape, where we breathe and he gives us points."

"He went off on that one girl in Hufflepuff—Max or whatever—for accusing him of spelling things wrong," Alice chuckled. "I think she's American, actually…"

Edwina shoved the book away. "You two are such nerds—I wish I could hate you properly, it'd make things so much easier."

Alice shook her head slightly, before pulling a sweater on over her head. The prefects had made their cloaks mostly waterproof through the help of some clever charm work, so the sweater and the cloak should suffice for the match. The last match they had seen lasted for hours—in fact, it was rumored today's might just last for over a day.

A few of the Gryffindors apparently wanted to break some records.

"You're just a secret nerd, Eddie," Margo teased, winking. "I've seen your transfiguration essays—you put far too much effort into them."

"What, just because I actually write my name?" Edwina scoffed, raising an eyebrow. "Unlike someone I shan't care to mention who forgot to put hers…"

Margo turned a delicate shade of pink, and quickly, the subject was dropped. It hardly mattered anyways, as the trio found themselves dressed and ready to go watch the match. The prefects had promised a special breakfast in the dungeons for them all to partake in after the match, so there was no reason for them to head to the Great Hall.

Bronwyn had informed all of them, after all, that they would be serving green eggs and ham. Alice couldn't be certain whether or not she was joking.

"Oh, Al, nearly forgot—the Weasley girl was asking for you," Edwina added as they made their way out to the Quidditch pitch, surrounded by the mob of other students.

Alice paled instantly, and she tried to steady her heart. She could hardly feel her legs as she walked, and faster than seemed possible, the three of them were sitting down in the stands at the Quidditch pitch. She took in a deep breath, her mind entirely frazzled, uncertain as to whether or not she had said something yet to Edwina.

"Who?" Alice asked, attempting to sound at ease, yet instead sounded strained, perhaps even constipated.

"Jenny, I think," Edwina murmured, straining her eyes to gaze towards the center of the pitch. The teams hadn't yet emerged, yet something rather strange was happening—Madam Hooch wasn't out there, hoisting the chest of Quidditch balls over her shoulder.

" _Ginny_ ," Alice sighed. She honestly shouldn't have hoped Edwina meant someone else—it wasn't exactly like there was a surplus of female Weasleys.

Margo, rather unhelpfully, chimed in on the conversation. "Yeah, she said she really needs to talk to you—in private, I think… Sounded really worried about something."

 _Yeah, like the fact I know she wants me dead. I'd be worried too if I was a murderer,_ Alice thought sarcastically.

"Thanks," Alice sighed, peering as a figure clad in emerald robes marched onto the Quidditch pitch.

Madam Hooch never wore anything besides her same pair of navy robes. It didn't matter if they were covered in dirt or mud, the sordid things always clung to her narrow and athletic figure. Frowning to herself, Alice attempted to make out who the figure could have been.

"What's McGonagall doing?" Margo pondered, frowning slightly, her tooth jutting out like a fang. "Is she reffing the match today? That's totally not fair if she is…. We ought to go complain to Madam Hooch about it."

"Maybe even the headmaster," Edwina murmured in agreement.

Slytherins were rather notorious for being incredibly bossy about the rules whenever events didn't favor them. For example, Bronwyn told them that in her first year, the Slytherin seeker used the Summoning Charm to catch the snitch, and no one in the house saw a problem with it until Gryffindor attempted to replicate the deed.

"Something's wrong…," Alice muttered, an uncanny sensation of fear gripping her.

 _There hasn't been an attack in four months—she's probably just here to lecture Potter about wearing deodorant or something silly,_ Alice reassured herself. Had it not been for the soft wool of her gloves, her fingernails would have cut into her skin from nerves.

Suddenly, Professor McGonagall's voice was amplified, allowing it to sound throughout the pitch. A hushed silence swept over the students, as everyone's face paled to a degree that would rival Draco's natural complexion.

"Quidditch has been canceled," Professor McGonagall stated bluntly, her tiny emerald figure standing at the very center of the field, surrounded by dazed and confused Gryffindors. "Prefects, please lead your houses back to the dormitories, and await further instructions. Food shall be served there for this occasion only. Thank you."

Her voice echoed away, and Alice felt weak. Clutching onto the side of her cloak, she wanted nothing more than to scream and cry out in defeat. Perhaps it wasn't her destiny to become the greatest witch ever. Her destiny may easily be to perform on a stage, to live a lie, rather than to die one. Closing her eyes firmly shut, despair flowed throughout her entire being.

 _To be or not to be,_ Alice thought bitterly to herself, recalling her father's favorite play. _That is the question…_

"Come on, Alice," Edwina insisted, pulling on Alice's hand, directing her towards the morose mob of green. She was helpless but to go along with Edwina, and she nodded, forcing a smile on her face, until she disappeared into the crowd, unable to be distinguished from any other member.

* * *

To assume that Slytherins would never break the rules would be a completely incorrect statement. To be a Slytherin is to want to always have the advantage, and equally, to always survive. And so, when the prefects lead the younger students back to the Slytherin Common Room, it wasn't too surprising that two students were missing from their number.

Of course, these students were Alice Holmes and Draco Malfoy.

Draco had quickly motioned to Alice, indicating for her to follow him as soon as they stepped inside. Her heart skipped a beat, terrified that somehow the Heir of Slytherin— _Ginny,_ she corrected herself—had gotten him to despise her for the filth she was. Instead, he had a better sacrament in mind than angry fighting.

"I saw McGonagall taking Potter and Weasley to the Hospital Wing," Draco whispered, smirking to himself. "I bet Granger's dead—do you want to go take a look?"

 _Definitely another attack then,_ Alice concluded, before nodding eagerly. A sly smile slipped over her face, and even she didn't know whether or not it was genuine. "What are we waiting for, then?"

Draco grinned, before sneaking out of the mob of green with Alice right behind him, rushing to the first floor corridor, where the entrance to the Hospital Wing could easily be found. Students tended only to find themselves among the cold, sterilized bed whenever an impromptu duel broke out in the halls, or a cold went around.

"Do you think she's actually… dead?" Alice whispered, dashing after Draco as they climbed up the small, spiral staircase.

He threw a glance back at her, though his expression was vague, almost insipid, to the point that Alice didn't feel like repeating her question at all. He pushed gently up against the door, allowing it to creak open, and the two of them stuck their heads through the gap.

Dimly, they could see Harry and Ron, staring down at Hermione with fear. Her body was as firm as stone, and as rigid as ice. Each brush of Harry's hand and every clumsy bump from Ron failed to wake her. She merely remained there, entirely motionless.

It was something far more horrifying than death.

Very distantly, they could hear the hushed whispers of McGonagall's voice. A strange, tender, and mother like comfort radiated from its quiet tones. For a moment, Alice once imagined herself clad in something other than green and silver, and regret filled her. There was more to life, she was beginning to realize, than could be accomplished by ambition alone.

"We best get going," Alice mumbled, nudging Draco slightly to get his attention.

She withdrew from the door, slowly walking down the stone-cold steps, as to make the smallest amount of noise. Draco remained fixated in place, his skin deathly pale, though that wasn't abnormal for him.

"Draco!" Alice whispered, frowning sharply. "Come on, don't stand there like some stupid mudblood!"

He jerked into action, letting the door slam shut a bit harder than he had intended. Each and every hair on his head seemed to be standing up completely, and an expression of utter fear had consumed him.

"What's the matter with you?" Alice asked, walking down the staircase until she arrived at the landing.

Draco shrugged, his hands shaking. "Nothing—come on, I'm starving."

"…Right," Alice said. "You're _obviously_ completely fine. Everyone just starts acting like they witnessed Nick's beheading in person all the time."

Draco rolled his eyes, his face tightening into a sneer. "Oh, shut up, Holmes."

She chuckled slightly, yet obliged the pompous little boy. The pair of them walked back to the Slytherin Common Room, avoiding staff members as they did so. The only encountered Elrond, who gladly leapt onto Alice's shoulder, purring softly as he nuzzled her ear. There was rather little danger of a kitten docking house points.

"Blood-traitor," Draco said boldly in front of the sliding wall. It melted away in a moment, allowing Draco to quickly vanish into the shadows, disappearing from Alice's sight.

It didn't stop her from remembering how petrified he had appeared when he witnessed Hermione Granger reduced to a slab. For a moment, Alice considered that perhaps he fancied her, but then she dismissed it as ridiculous.

Everyone knew Draco Malfoy was in love with Pansy Parkinson.

"Al, someone left you a gift!" Edwina shouted obnoxiously, jarring Alice from her thoughts. She gazed towards her friend and frowned, watching as she frantically gestured for Alice to hurry into the first year girls' dormitory.

"You guys just can't live without me, can you?" Alice teased, sighing as she made her way over to Edwina.

Margo stood next to her, eating a crepe with just her hands, giggling every now and then as chocolate quickly spread everywhere. A little bit of chocolate graced her cheek, and Alice couldn't help but snicker.

"Evidently not," Edwina muttered pointedly. "I really want to know who got you a grim, though."

Alice frowned, raising an eyebrow skeptically. "A… grim?"

Edwina nodded, opening the door to their dormitory, and walking inside. True to her word, a small stuffed animal sat on Alice's bed. It perfectly resembled the grim of legend, and next to it, a small sealed envelope was addressed with her name. The ink looked suspiciously like blood.

Picking it up slowly, Alice turned the envelope over, imagining that she could simply deduce the sender. And for once, she was right—she knew who exactly had sent her the letter.

 _Ginny,_ she thought maliciously, slowly opening up the letter. An entire piece of parchment had been wasted for a mere handful of words, yet their effect was no less haunting. It too seemed to have been written in blood, a deeply horrifying joke that Alice wasn't certain even Ginny was capable of making.

 _You're next_ , it said simply.

"So, who sent it?" Edwina pestered, craning her neck to glance at the note. Alice crumpled it up quickly, shoving it into her pocket before her nosy friend could see it. She didn't need to hear Edwina prattling on and on about the death threat. If anything, Edwina would most likely insist they take revenge on Ginny privately.

Alice didn't really see a point in that. If anything, it would give Ginny a chance to betray her secret to her friends—and to permanently poison their relationship.

"It's nothing," Alice muttered, tossing the stuffed grim aside. "Granger and Clearwater are in the Hospital Wing—it's why Quidditch was cancelled."

Edwina's eyes widened, and Alice relaxed slightly, having hit the mark. Edwina may not have seen it, but she devoured gossip as eagerly as she did mints. People had an uncanny habit of trusting her with secrets, only to have Alice and Margo learn all about them within an hour's time.

"What do you mean?" Edwina pestered.

"Something happened?" Margo asked, wandering over to her own bed and flopping down on it with her Charms textbook.

"Clearly," Edwina rolled her eyes. "Don't be so daft, Maggot."

"Whatever," Margo grumbled. "At least maggots are cool."

Brushing off their absurd behavior, Alice paused a moment before churning the rumor mill. Marie had a certain talent for spreading droll facts and ideas, and somehow, they easily were planted into people's heads. For a moment, Alice missed her dear friend, and wished that she had been placed in Slytherin as well, as to be able to help her.

"They were both petrified," Alice said slowly, emphasizing each word as to heighten Edwina's excitement. "Cold as ice, sturdy as a rock."

"Did you touch them?" Margo asked, appearing dazed and confused.

"No," Alice frowned. "Why?"

"How'd you know they were cold then?" Margo asked, an impish smile creeping onto her face.

Rolling her eyes, Alice grumbled that it was a figure of speech. "Anyways, it means that the Heir of Slytherin isn't done attacking—Draco reckons that the next attack, someone will die properly this time… I'm surprised it hasn't happened already."

Edwina nodded, gazing off into space wistfully. "I think Marie'll be next—I wouldn't mind seeing her in one of those beds. Weasley too would be a blessing—her and Creevey are a match made in hell, don't you think?"

Alice avoided Edwina's sharp gaze, and threw in half-hearted support. "It won't be you, that's for sure."

"I agree," Edwina said smartly, smiling primly with great pleasure. "I rather fancy what this Heir of Slytherin is doing. We shouldn't have to be discriminated against because of our founder—it's our way of getting back at the rest of the filth in this school, that's how I see it…"

Margo nodded in agreement quickly. "Some people are just better than others, I guess."

Alice shifted uncomfortably. "Do you guys honestly believe all of that, though? I mean, there's hardly any evidence that… Well, that your blood status actually can impact how good you are. I mean, look at Granger, for Christ's sake!"

Edwina frowned. "Al, I get you're trying to be fair but… It just isn't possible. There's too much bad blood. You're either with us, or you're against us. Come on, you're a proud Slytherin—you aren't honestly going to choose them, now are you?"


	21. Chapter 21

The next morning, a house meeting was called. Every Slytherin attended, including Snape, an oddity as he preferred more of a hands-off approach to the Slytherin Common Room. As Alice sat against the wall on Edwina's left, she couldn't help but wonder that somehow, this meeting would be about her. Closing her eyes, she could just picture it. Professor Snape waltzing up to the center of the room, proclaiming a traitor is within their midst, and outing her as being a piece of filth, a disgrace to the noble house of Slytherin.

She opened her eyes, and instead an unfamiliar face stood in their midst. He had long flowing hair, a shock of white. His ebony cane concealed his wand, and the older Slytherins smiled at him with an air of respect.

"For those of you who do not recall me, I am Lucius Malfoy," he boasted. "Draco's father—I supplied the brooms for the Slytherin Quidditch team."

Flint nodded eagerly, his eyes darting towards Mr. Malfoy's pockets, as if more equipment would be found inside. Alice snickered slightly, though the air was stifling with egos and rivalries.

"Professor Snape has so graciously allowed me to break the news to you," Mr. Malfoy stated, his slimy lips moving slowly, nearly fluttering. "Professor Dumbledore has been suspended, and the oaf Hagrid has been sent to Azkaban."

Alice's eyes bulged out of their socket. Headmaster Dumbledore had been at Hogwarts for ages, and as far as Alice was concerned, the school wouldn't be the same without him. He was a staple, a permanent fixture, just like the turrets of the castle. According to the line of succession, Professor McGonagall would be in charge of the school.

 _Unless they voted in someone else to be an interim headmaster,_ Alice thought sourly. As much as she appreciated ambition, sometimes it disgusted her. Draco told her all about his father and his various pursuits—he had no concept of honor, of standards, or any sort of guiding rules. Rules were not meant to be broken, only to be bent, as long as it went along with one's own moral code.

Lucius Malfoy had no sense of morality, as far as Alice could tell.

"Professor McGonagall shall be acting as headmistress until further notice," Mr. Malfoy commented, his mouth curling in displeasure. "If I had my way, Professor Snape would be in charge—yet as it stands, there is nothing more to be done about this."

Draco smirked, eyeing the professor lurking in the corner. Snape's face, devoid of motion, revealed nothing about his thoughts. His behavior may have been lugubrious in nature, for as much as anyone could tell. For a moment, Alice pondered what thoughts could possibly be going through his head.

"Thank you," Snape said curtly, sweeping towards the center of the room.

Lucius Malfoy bowed his head. "I'll be taking my leave then, Severus. I hope that Draco doesn't tell me of any more… incidents… It'd be quite unfortunate."

"Quite," Snape agreed.

Lucius attempted to smile, but instead appeared clammy, as if deeply troubled over something. He cast a spare glance in Alice's direction, before leaving the Slytherin Common Room without another word. However, that glance was enough to let Alice know that her secret had indeed been spoiled. Mr. Malfoy never kept anything from Draco. And with that spare look, it had told her everything she needed to know.

The dungeons were no longer safe for her.

"There was another attack yesterday," Snape explained as Lucius left the Slytherin Common Room. "A prefect and a second year are now in the Hospital Wing. As of such, it is prohibited for students to walk alone—you shall be escorted by a professor at all times."

Edwina scowled, as this undoubtedly ruined some of her plans. Alice couldn't care in the slightest that Edwina wanted to stalk some of the older Gryffindors and injure them before Quidditch matches. Instead, she cared about the fact that sneaking off would become entirely impossible.

Especially now, when her life was in danger the more she remained in the dungeon. The instant Snape left the room, she could easily be killed, and her housemates could then feasibly claim ignorance. Perhaps at night, someone would assist Ginny in smothering her, helping to begin the purification of Slytherin house.

Snape hesitated, as if compelled by compassion for his students for a brief moment. Yet the passion quickly faded, returning his sepulchral complexion, and he swept out of the Slytherin Common Room without another word.

For a few moments, no one moved. Each person digested the news, mulling it over. For most of them, Dumbledore had been Headmaster when their older siblings went to Hogwarts, and perhaps, even when their parents had attended. The very notion that there could be a Hogwarts without Dumbledore seemed… impossible, and redundant.

"The Exploding Snap tournament is still scheduled for today," Bronwyn said, clearing her throat as she stepped towards the center of the room, filling in the awkward gap. "Each of the years have already declared their two champions. Those are as follows…Nancy Colloway and Algernon Graves… Rachel Harvey and Acantha Hext…Erm, myself and Lucian Bole… Cassius Warington and Adrian Pucey…Dawn Blackwood and Dwyer Hicks… Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini… And lastly, Ethen Kersey and Alice Holmes."

Alice was jolted from her thoughts, staring towards Bronwyn with terror.

"Alice, is something wrong?" Bronwyn asked, frowning. "Did I startle you?"

Alice's eyes were wide, practically bulging out of their sockets. Nervously shaking her head from side to side, she took a moment to recall everything she had heard, but hardly listened to. _Relax, you're just playing in the tournament—you aren't dead,_ she told herself, squeezing her hands tightly into fists.

"…Right," Bronwyn mumbled. "Anyways, the tournament is going to be today, so all of the players will need to be here at three o'clock at the very latest, in order to ensure that we can get through this on time. The winner will get this broomstick, nicked from the Gryffindors."

The room instantly was enveloped with snickering, as everyone smirked at the spectacle. It wasn't that they were all horrible people, of course. Any group of students at Hogwarts would have acted similarly—well, except for Hufflepuff. They were always doing their best to show everyone up morally.

But largely, it didn't matter that the Slytherins thought it was funny. The Ravenclaws would have been laughing over the cleverness of it all, and the Gryffindors would have been grinning at the sheer nerve of the act.

"Won't we get detention if we're caught with that?" Kate Sanders asked pointedly. She was still sulking about not being picked to represent her year in the tournament, as she claimed her Exploding Snap skills were the closest manifestation of a higher power that would ever occur. Unfortunately, no one else was convinced of that.

"No," Bronwyn smirked diabolically. "The winner will receive the broomstick, yes—but they'll get to hide it somewhere around the castle for those stupid lions to find! It keeps us from risking our necks, and we get a good laugh out of it."

"I want to be like her," Edwina sighed wistfully, keeping her voice at a whisper. "She's just so…"

"Evil?" Margo offered, playing idly with a chocolate frog. She kept it trapped under her thumb, playing with each of its legs in turn as it squirmed, desperately trying to escape. And then, with an air of nonchalance, she bit off its head, swallowing it in just two pieces.

For a moment, Alice sat there stunned, completely forgetting that Margo had not indeed eaten an actual frog, and that it was merely an enchantment.

"Yeah," Edwina admitted, her face soft. "It takes guts to be that… despicable and cunning, you know? I rather admire that."

Alice scoffed slightly, watching as Bronwyn dismissed the house, and she quickly vanished to her own dormitory. Alice, however, remained crouched down on the floor with her two friends, as her best friend was currently playing with potatoes in the cellar, for all she knew.

"You act like she's a murderer, Eddie," Alice pointed out. "You'd idolize a killer, wouldn't you?"

Edwina smiled impishly. "A killer, yes—a murderer, no. Some people deserve to die, Alice. For example, when a bunch of muggles meets a nasty end, it isn't murder. It's a public service."

Alice grimaced, her father coming to mind instantly. His death wouldn't exactly improve the community, nor would it improve her move. She couldn't fathom his ever-smiling face frozen for eternity, no longer sculpting itself in film after film… It was horrendous.

"You really know how to put the elitist attitude in Slytherin," Alice commented sourly.

Edwina grinned with pride. "Thanks, Al. That means a lot to me."

* * *

When the tournament began at three o'clock, Alice was informed that she would be facing Acantha Hext. Acantha was notorious for constantly having her nose stuck in a book, and a few rumors spread that she practiced wandless magic in her free time. Supposedly, that explained the black marks that had spread over her hands, though as far as Alice was concerned, it was merely her trying to pass off a skin condition as something more desirable.

She cast a quick glance at Acantha, noting how the girl was sipping peppermint tea in the corner. Currently, Blaise Zabini and Ethen Kersey were playing, with Ethen pulling ahead. Dark circles outlined Blaise's eyes, as he had spent the last few nights focusing on an essay for Lockhart's class, which would help boost his grade. He desperately needed a pass.

At any rate, she had plenty of time to work on her Herbology assignment. Leaving the crowd, she chuckled as she heard Kersey curse as the cards exploded on him. Blaise grinned, before beginning his turn, yet Alice had already emerged within her own dormitory.

What greeted her was not a happy sight. Her bed was covered with blood, smeared over all of her belongings. The curtains on her four-poster bed were ripped and torn, with a single piece of paper in the center. She gulped, not needing to read it in order to glean its message. It read:

 _Alice Clytemnestra Holmes—daughter of Dymphna Blackstone, witch, and Edmund Holmes, muggle. Your corpse shall never be found. In the Black Lake, it shall vanish, never to be seen again._

 _Make peace with your gods, muggle filth._

The beating of her heart echoing in her mind, she wordlessly raised her wand, siphoning the blood off of her belongings with the spell Bronwyn had used earlier. That being done, she then repaired the curtains, until only the haunting letter remained of evidence of what had happened.

 _I'm going to die,_ Alice thought dejectedly. The gravity of it struck her suddenly, and her knees went weak, trembling as she collapsed onto her bed. It wasn't a game anymore, certainly not one that she was willing to play at least. Gambling a small pile of galleons was one thing; her life was another entirely.

 _I need a place to hide,_ Alice realized grimly. Gathering up a few necessities, she threw them inside of her school bag, and slung it over her shoulder. As much as missing the Exploding Snap tournament pained her, her safety felt slightly more important than winning. She emerged from the dormitory, drawing her hood to hide her face, and quickly darted out of the Slytherin Common Room.

Her heart pounded as she found herself in an empty corridor. The only thing on her mind was putting as much distance between herself and her housemates as she possibly could. The Heir of Slytherin, whether it was Ginny or someone else, clearly had an advantage on her. They were a shadow to her, a shadow who could follow her each and every movement, and knew where she slept.

Her panic caused her to dash up through the school, reaching landing after landing, to the extent that she considered sleeping in the Owlery. The bitter chill of it appalled her, and she paced back and forth on the seventh floor corridor, desperately attempting to come up with some sort of plan.

It was then that a door appeared, seemingly out of nowhere.

She blinked, approaching the door cautiously. From her experience working in films and plays, a terrible fate awaited her behind it. She gulped slightly, and let her knowledge go towards the back of her mind, as she opened the grand door, and slipped inside. It was a small room with a four-poster bed not unlike the ones in the dungeons, yet this one was decked in purple. Various devices surrounded it, including a glass with dark, imminent shapes looming near.

"Hello?" Alice whispered, shutting the door behind her softly. "Is anyone here?"

There was no reply, yet there hardly was any space left for someone to conceal themselves. For the sake of her peace of mind, Alice wandered the room, checking underneath the bed, behind the small chest of drawers, and even inside of them. There wasn't a single person present. She held her breath, listening intently for the sound of another person breathing—there was nothing.

She was entirely alone.

The bed itself was well made, without a single sign someone had slept in it. It was not covered in dust, however, as would have indicated it being vacant for a while. Uneasy with nerves, she sat down on the bed gently, and pulled out her vile of potion. Biting her lip, she considered whether now would be the time to use it—or if there would be greater peril yet to come.

"What is this place?" Alice muttered, placing the potion back into her bag. "I wish there was a sign or something…"

And suddenly, she noticed a small sheet of paper lying on the chest of drawers. She blinked with confusion, her heart hammering once more. It hadn't been there a moment ago—and now, here it was. She bit down on her lip hard and went over to the piece of paper, turning it over gently, as if it carried a malicious curse.

It read:

THIS IS THE ROOM OF REQUIREMENT.

"I don't know what that means," Alice said. "But… I suppose I'm talking to a room."

 _I really am like my namesake,_ Alice chuckled. Her father would have enjoyed to see this, and out of the corner of her eye, she expected the Cheshire Cat to appear. Instead, only more writing appeared on the piece of paper. It didn't happen slowly—it was instantaneous. At one moment, only the single line was there. The next, the following had been added:

THOSE IN GREAT NEED SHALL ASK AND RECEIVE.

"I'm insane," Alice muttered, though her heart fluttered with hope.

The room evidently had a sense of humor, as it continued to reply. It said:

UNLIKELY.

She bit her lip, concerned for a moment that she had wandered into an enchanted room—a room that she could have a conversation with. Stranger things had indeed happened, yet Alice felt a sentient room generally was not a good thing. However, the violet bed was tempting, and somehow, Alice felt as if no one could possibly find her in this room.

"Thank you," Alice muttered to no one, setting the strange piece of paper aside, and crawling into the bed. It was warm, furthering her feelings of tranquility. As far as Alice was concerned, she could hide away in this room for the rest of the year. She could hardly care about the panic and fear the teachers would descend into when they realized she was missing.

 _Maybe the Heir of Slytherin will have left more messages at my bed,_ Alice mused. _They may fancy I'm dead if they find those…_ A grief stricken Marie appeared in her mind, and guilt quickly enveloped her, yet a more powerful force won over it.

In a matter of minutes, Alice Holmes, the halfblood witch, daughter of a muggle and an awful witch, had fallen fast asleep in the protection of the Room of Requirement. For tonight, she would be safe. The next day was another matter entirely.


	22. Chapter 22

In hindsight, Snape may have desired a system to know definitely where each of his students was late at night. Instead, he remained completely clueless, surrounded by tired faces throughout the entire day, with no particular desire to check all of the beds at night. As of such, the knowledge that Alice had been missing since three that afternoon may never had reached him, had there not been an Exploding Snap tournament that same day.

Fortunately for Alice, Snape delegated the task of worrying over her whereabouts to the prefects. Any other teacher would have scoured the entire castle for a missing student, yet Snape felt confident that the monster would devour no Slytherins. His students left the entire "being a martyr" business to Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs—it didn't become them to die for others.

She awoke in the Room of Requirement feeling at ease, having slept better than she had in months. The purple curtains of the bed guarded her from night terrors and fears, a welcoming shelter from the problems she faced at this school. Yet as soon as she realized how safe she felt inside the Room of Requirement, she grew sad.

This would be her last year at Hogwarts—and then, off to a new school. It didn't matter whether it was Durmstrang, Beauxbatons, or Ilvermorny. None of the schools could possibly compare to Hogwarts, as sentimental as that may seem. All of the greatest witches and wizards studied at Hogwarts—Merlin himself was a member of Alice's house.

Leaving Hogwarts, then, would result in the abandonment of her dream. She bit her lip, hardly able to concede that her life could be valued higher than the achievement of her ultimate goal. Perhaps the life of an actor wouldn't be that bad—jobs would be easy to come by on account of her pedigree, at any standard.

She sighed, and slung her bag over her shoulder, her hand shaking as she grasped the knob of the door. The coolness of the metal was searing, and she twisted it delicately, with the creaking sounding more like the sharpening of a butcher knife.

Her stomach growled as the door closed behind her. She threw a glance over her shoulder, only to see a blank stretch of wall, without anything of significance marking it. Her eyes widened slightly, and consciously, she took note of her surroundings, as to be able to find her refuge once again later.

"Thanks," Alice muttered awkwardly, before quickly dashing down the staircase.

Snape may have been lax about security and keeping track of students, but that wouldn't stop the likes of McGonagall or Sprout from giving her detention if they caught her wandering around all by herself. The current Head Girl was particularly vicious when it came to deducting points as well. Alice didn't want to run afoul of Christine, the intimidating Hufflepuff, if she could help it.

And as of such, she quickly rushed down the staircases, desperately attempting to blend into the portraits plastering the wall. Fortune favored her, as only Peeves was about, as he was sticking gum into the lock of all the doors, chuckling away to himself.

Upon reaching the Great Hall, she let out a sigh of relief. Snape arrived from the other entrance with the flock of Slytherins, and Alice dashed towards the table, perfectly merging into the crowd. If she had timed it as correctly as she felt she did, no one would have seen her enter by herself, and instead, they'd assume she came in with the rest of her house.

"You weren't in the SCaR last night," Edwina pointed out, her voice laced with a thick, accusatory tone. She jabbed her fork into a piece of toast, hardly even glancing at Alice.

Instantly, Alice felt very small. "I had a stomach ache," she fibbed.

"A stomach ache," Edwina repeated, raising an eyebrow sharply. "You wouldn't lie to us would you, Al? We're your friends. Friends don't hide things from each other."

 _If only you knew what I was hiding, then we wouldn't be friends anymore… Well, I'd be dead as well, but that's beside the point,_ Alice thought, squirming slightly in her seat.

"Edwina, you know I'd never lie to you," Alice said carefully, looking her in the eye. "It's not like I have some big secret or something, honestly."

Edwina frowned, before nodding subtly. "I hope you gave Granger a good kick while you were in there, at least."

Alice smiled dryly. "Oh, you know me, Eddie… Did you really have to ask that?"

The conversation felt suffocating, and Alice stuffed her face with porridge, despite her appetite having quickly vanished. It offered her a brief escape from the strained friendship she had formed with Edwina. Even Margo seemed different to her now—the once friendly face with the cute, almost vampire like tooth had transformed into a malicious one, characterized with a fang.

But of course, there was no solace to be found in merely eating. Margo and Edwina continued to chatter, pressing Alice with a relentless number of questions, yet they fell on deaf ears. Alice could hear herself answer them, yet it felt as if a false skin encircled her. In that moment, she realized it hadn't mattered that she had gone to Hogwarts over W.A.D.A. in the end.

She had learned to disguise herself after all—she had learned to act.

* * *

For a little while longer, Alice managed to keep up the charade. She would go to classes as normal, eat in the Great Hall, and slip away to the Room of Requirement at night. Edwina interrogated her about it the first few nights, and eventually, Edwina refused to utter a word. Her trust had been ripped to shreds, and while Alice did regret that, she couldn't deny the basic fact that she was indeed alive.

After lunch one dreary Tuesday, Professor Snape shepherded them back to the Slytherin Common Room, as they had a free period that day. Alice planned to work on her homework later in the library, yet she had something pressing to attend to—replying to a letter her mother had sent her that very morning. Gale and Armelle always were in the dormitory, so it seemed safe enough for her to scratch out a reply in there.

No one would attempt murder when witnesses were fully aware and present. The dangers of being in the dormitory at night vanished at day. She relaxed slightly, sitting on her cold and dusty bed with a fresh piece of parchment in front of her. Gale sat in the very corner of the room, quietly sketching on her notepad. Armelle painted her nails delicately, staring out the door expectantly.

She poured herself into the letter, allowing the noises and her surroundings to fade away. As difficult as it was, she needed to inform her parents of her decision sooner, rather than later. Her letter, once completed, read:

 _Mum and Dad,_

 _Strange things are happening here at Hogwarts. I don't feel comfortable here, and I'd like to transfer to Ilvermorny, Beauxbatons, or W.A.D.A. for the next term. Please don't ask me too many questions about this._

 _I love you,_

 _Alice_

She frowned down at the letter, concerned with its simplicity, yet satisfied at the same time. She folded the paper neatly, and put it inside of the envelope, sealing it shut. With her quill, she addressed the letter plainly, with Elrond chewing on the edge of the envelope. Alice grinned and stroked Elrond's back soothingly, only to have him flinch, and run off in terror.

"That's odd…," Alice muttered. "Gale, did you hear something?"

She turned her head, confused at the lack of a response. Gale was a bit of a recluse, yet she generally would answer questions when asked directly. There was only one problem: Alice was alone in the dormitory.

Gulping, her hands began to tremble. Armelle and Gale must have left the dormitory while she was writing, and the two of them were so silent, it made complete sense for that to have occurred. And then, something startled Elrond to the extent that he ran off in terror.

 _I need to run,_ Alice grimaced, grabbing the vial of potion and quickly darting out of the room. With a sense of purpose, she made her way through the Slytherin Common Room, and exited, before darting into a broom cupboard quickly. Her heart hammered greatly, and she took a few deep breaths, before glancing back at the vial once more. If there ever were a moment when it would be of the most use, it would be now. Escaping the closet as someone else would allow her to flee the castle, potentially steal a broom from the broom shed and fly as far away from the castle as she possibly could.

Taking a deep breath, she downed the vial of Polyjuice Potion.

Her stomach twisted with nerves, she wished she had a mirror, so she could see exactly whom she was turning into. If her logic was correct, it would be one of that irritating trio of Gryffindors, as their hairs had fallen into a small portion of the batch—the portion that she had stolen.

Her entire body grew very hot, hotter than when she had come down with the flu. Her knees gave out and she fell to the floor, gasping on her hands and knees. Bubbles pushed up against the surface of her skin, and she felt as if every pore of her body changed at once, expanding and contracting in an unknown harmony. Retching onto the floor, her vision blurred, going doubled. And then, all at once, it stopped.

Shaking, Alice scrambled to her feet, and felt her hair. Rather than its usual slightly wavy texture, it felt like a bush, with the hair constantly tangling and knotting. Her eyes widened, and she touched her teeth.

 _I'm Hermione Granger,_ she realized with astonishment. Blinking, she tossed the empty vial of Polyjuice Potion aside, hardly caring as it shattered, leaving tiny glass fragments on the floor. As much as she despised the older Gryffindor—the proclaimed Brightest Witch of the Era—she felt liberated. No one would be out to harm Hermione Granger.

After all, the real Hermione remained in the Hospital Wing under constant observation. No one would be out roaming the castle to bring her to a nasty end. They'd already managed to wound her—they had bigger fish to fry.

And so, Alice elatedly left the broom cupboard. Her robes were slightly too short now, yet she hardly paid it any attention, and she began to make her way towards the Great Hall. From there, she would be able to sneak out of the castle, and fly off to safety—to home.

It was then that she found her path blocked by an excited Mairead Fallon. Her close friend, Remus, gawked at Alice with her.

"Hermione!" Remus gushed, pulling Alice into a tight hug. "I didn't think the mandrakes were ready yet!"

Mairead's eyes lit up, to the extent that they rivaled the intensity of her ginger hair. As soon as Remus released Alice, she started to snicker, gazing with awe at the crest on Alice's robes.

"You nicked a Slytherin's robes? Nice!" Mairead grinned broadly. "Didn't think you had it in you, Granger."

"Ron and Harry need to see you," Remus added quickly. "Come on, I think I saw them heading to the staff room after going to visit you but… Well, you're here!"

He frowned a bit, confused by his own knowledge. Alice quickly realized the error, and thankfully, acting was one thing that she did excel at. She could sell any lie, all she needed was a bit of the truth to gloss it over with, and any listener would swallow it without complaint.

"They must have just missed me," Alice explained. "I was released from the Hospital Wing a little while ago, wanted to surprise them…"

"But then you went pranking," Mairead added gleefully.

Alice nodded, her newfound curls bounding irritatingly. _Honestly, how can she handle this hair?_ She grumbled to herself.

"Alright," Remus nodded. "Anyways, like I said, they're just heading to the staff room—mentioned something super important when we passed them earlier."

Mairead and Remus grabbed Alice's hands, and began to pull her in the direction of the staff room. She stared wistfully towards the path that would have allowed her to leave the castle, but as she recalled, this potion should last for about an hour—she'd merely have to attempt to ditch Mairead, Remus, Ron, and Harry before the effects wore off.

Otherwise, she'd have to explain why she decided to impersonate Hermione Granger on a Tuesday afternoon. The ensuing conversation would be more than difficult.

"Blimey, Lockhart looks scared," Remus muttered as the passed the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Lockhart's door stood ajar, and he frantically dashed around the room, throwing objects into his trunk.

"Maybe he's doing us all a favor and quitting," Alice commented bitterly, immediately regretting it. As far as she was aware, Hermione Granger was nothing but smitten with teachers.

Mairead and Remus, however, broke out snickering. Alice let out a sigh of relief, though they continued to drag her through the many corridors, somehow avoiding any and all authority figures that would give them detention. Once again, Alice didn't want to explain to Professor McGonagall why she suddenly was no longer Hermione Granger halfway through doing lines.

"What do you think is so important?" Mairead pondered as the turned yet another corridor.

Remus shrugged. "Maybe they found the Heir of Slytherin—or another plot of You-Know-Who."

"He's dead," Mairead argued, rolling her eyes. "Not even Voldemort can come back from the dead."

Remus paled slightly at Mairead saying You-Know-Who's name, and his hands shook slightly. "You shouldn't say that!" he hissed. "And besides, if anyone can come back from the dead, it's him!"

"Well, no one can," Mairead grinned. "Stop being so paranoid, Remus, you'll never make Head Boy like this!"

Remus scoffed, and paid Mairead little to no attention. They were only second years, after all, and the prospect of becoming Head Boy seemed to be ages away. Alice found herself increasingly annoyed with the pair of them, and desperately, she wanted to break away and run, to flee the castle…

Instead, she had to exchange pleasantries with Gryffindors—the very people who booed at her sorting, and damned her along with the rest of her house. Whether or not a housemate indeed was attempting to kill her didn't matter—she still felt loyalty and pride towards the green and the silver.

"There they are!" Remus exclaimed. "Ron, Harry, look who we found!"

"Hermione!" Harry gasped, his eyes widening as if they were about to explode out of his head. "But… we saw you petrified in the Hospital Wing just a few hours ago!"

"Bloody hell, don't tell me you're going to talk to Flitwick about taking the exam early!" Ron exclaimed, his face colored with conflicting emotions.

Alice's eyebrows shoot up. "Honestly, Ron, what sort of person do you think I am?"

The Weasley boy shrugged, his pale skin flaring up red. "A know-it-all."

 _Sounds accurate,_ Alice thought to herself smugly. However, a quick glance over at Harry revealed that they had bigger problems to deal with. His face was twisted with fear, and Alice gulped, expecting that they had realized the lie—that somehow, these daft Gryffindors knew of her deception.

"Harry?" Alice asked, awkwardly smiling at him. "Is something the matter?"

"It's got Ginny," Harry said, frowning sharply. "If we don't hurry to do something, she'll be dead within an hour."


	23. Chapter 23

" _Is this the real life,_

 _Is this just fantasy?_

 _Caught in a landslide,_

 _No escape from reality"_

-Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody

* * *

There were only four or five important moments in a person's life. These moments shape their destiny, decide whether the role they play is of a villain or a hero, and define how the world perceives them to be. Of course, these moments are those of reflection and suffering, of internal struggle and pondering the consequences of an ineffable cosmic scheme. For Alice Holmes, this was one of the first of those very few moments, and as far as she was concerned, the last.

As she stood in Lockhart's office, brandishing her wand at her professor, she wondered where it had all gone wrong. Of all her carefully planned out decisions, which one had brought her down on this road?

"Please, Hermione, my love, you don't want to be doing this," Lockhart stammered, his lilac trousers soiled, filling the air with a putrid scent. "You've got an entire future ahead of yourself—you wouldn't want to go to Azkaban for threatening Gilderoy Lockhart, now would you?"

 _I could care less about Hermione's future,_ Alice mused to herself, painfully aware of the beaver teeth crammed into her mouth. Hermione must have shrunk them down or something, as she couldn't recall seeing Hermione with overly large teeth lately—it must have been a new feature.

"Shut up, professor," Alice muttered, staring off intently into space.

 _Where did it all go wrong?_ She lamented once more, yet her grip was steadfast, not wavering in the slightest. Ron's cinnamon eyebrows shot up, and he bent over slightly, stifling his laughter.

"Blimey, Hermione," Ron exclaimed.

Alice shrugged, not quite hearing him. Everything grew distant, as if cotton had plugged up her ears. Her heart gurgled in her ears, wheezing, ready to give out and plunge her already dark world into a darker night.

"The basilisk has Ginny," Harry muttered sharply, his nostrils flaring as he stared down Lockhart, his wand extended as well. "You're going to go save her, professor."

"It'll be just like in your books," Alice said mechanically, looking, but not seeing.

Lockhart's face paled considerably, a quite impressive feat, as three teenagers currently held him at wand-point. The odds of them harming him intentionally, realistically, were rather low—he had a far higher chance of being maimed by accident.

"Of… Of course," Lockhart mumbled, looking down at the ground as if it were about to swallow him, and spit him out in hell.

"Good," Harry smirked. "The entrance to the Chamber, we think, is in the girls' bathroom."

"The one Myrtle constantly floods," Alice chimed in, her tongue practically numb, no more than a dead weight.

Lockhart nodded, shaking as Harry, Ron, and Alice escorted him out of the room. The three of them surrounded Lockhart, and they made their way down the corridor, approaching the staircase. Alice couldn't be certain as to who were more nervous and distressed—Lockhart or herself. Remus and Mairead awaited them there.

 _This makes no sense,_ Alice repeated to herself. _I don't care about Granger or Weasley—they could rot and it wouldn't make a difference._ Her inner snide and snarky attitude, however, was dulled strangely. It was as if Alice….cared.

How odd.

"Are you sure this is really feasible?" Lockhart moaned desperately as they wandered down the stairs.

"No, I'm not really certain at all," Alice said, a bit of whimsy creeping into her voice. The world continued to feel detached, floating a few inches away from her. She could see it, yet couldn't interact with it, no matter how much she tried.

For a moment, she pondered as to whether or not this was a side effect of the potion she had consumed.

"It'll work," Harry sternly stressed, opening the door. It banged against the thick stonewall with finality, clattering as it closed behind them. The wet floor soaked their feet, oozing and filling each part of their shoes.

Alice uncomfortably twitched her toes, wincing at the way the wet wool rubbed against her skin. Queasiness filled her rapidly, though she admitted, it mostly stemmed from Harry walking over to the sink and staring down at it expectantly, as if it was viable to spring to life at any moment.

"Harry, what the hell are you doing?" Ron asked nervously, glancing over at his friend.

Lockhart seemed to find an appropriate contribution was shaking and turning a delicate shade of lilac. He peered over at Harry and the sink, his eyes wide with a terror only seen on the very few occasions he had been required to demonstrate spells in class.

"I'm sure you know what you're doing, Harry," Mairead hesitated for a moment, "but I have a feeling you haven't the foggiest idea what you're doing."

Remus held back a snicker, and puffed his chest up, attempting to appear more and more important. It was no secret that he hoped to become Head Boy one day, yet his professors hardly had an idea of who he was. The odds seemed to be against him. He had a far better chance of adopting Marie than he had of becoming Head Boy.

"We need to get into the Chamber of Secrets," Harry explained, squinting down at the sink. "Somehow…"

And then, something terribly strange occurred. Harry's eyes narrowed, and his mouth contoured, as an ethereal whisper winnowed from his mouth. The sink's faucet danced gracefully, moving back and forth, glinting the entire time. Alice's eyes widened as slowly, a hatch began to appear—the opening of a tunnel.

"What did you just do?" Alice asked, staring at the Boy Who Lived with newfound respect.

"Just opened it up," Harry shrugged. "Come on, Lockhart—you first, professor."

A bead of sweat rolled off of Lockhart's face, and he stared down at the tunnel entrance with trepidation. His eyes thinned to the extent of being nonexistent, and with his flushed face, he hardly looked like any sort of hero. For more than the first time, Alice questioned the competence of her professor.

But more importantly, she realized the importance of this. If the basilisk indeed was down within the Chamber of Secrets, she was running directly towards a dreary and bloody end. It wasn't the best tactic for self preservation. However, no other choices were available to her. She was in too deep to avert her course.

"Hurry up, professor," Alice said icily, frowning at Lockhart. "The monster is just _dying_ to meet you."

Lockhart nodded weakly, a green pallor dominating his face. Tugging his robes up, he hoisted himself into the tunnel, sullenly gliding down into the darkness. Remus and Mairead quickly followed him, and after a moment's pause, Ron descended as well.

"You can go," Alice suggested, glancing furtively at Harry.

 _I can run as soon as he's gone,_ she thought, her heart trembling. Her nostrils flared as she stared at him, and he returned the gaze, as if examining her.

He brightened up and smiled at her suddenly. "I'll go last, thanks. I can close the tunnel."

Alice laughed nervously. "Oh, of course… How silly of me."

Harry grinned, and she climbed into the tunnel, allowing herself to slide downwards. As a child, she had always enjoyed slides, seeing them as a great source of amusement and joy. Instead, tears welled in her eyes, as she plunged into the darkness that was the Chamber of Secrets.

* * *

As Alice plummeted, so did her hopes. Distantly, she could hear the echoing voices of her enemies turned friends. Mairead and Remus seemed to be in a state of frenzied excitement, and Ron's cries as he frantically searched for his wand distantly reached her ear.

 _I never should have gone to Hogwarts,_ she swore to herself once more. Gradually, she could feel Hermione's features vanishing and being replaced with her own. Somehow, she expected that a mirror would feature her hair slowly darkening and becoming flatter, yet in the soot and darkness of the Chamber of Secrets, she doubted anyone would pay too much attention.

The slide ended unexpectedly, slamming Alice's feet into the ground. Pain shot up through her legs, and as soon as she got a bearing on her surroundings, she was greeted with a wand in her face. Instantly, her heart sank—they had discovered she was an imposter after all!

"Miss Granger, step aside," Lockhart said coolly, flicking Ron's wand menacingly at her. "Join the others in the corner, and place your wand on the ground when instructed."

Alice raised an eyebrow at him, her fear melting away for a moment. It was hard to be terrified of Lockhart, after all. But as she mechanically began to make her way towards the corner, her feet brushed up against bones, and dread swirled throughout her.

For all she knew, the remains of Ginny Weasley had just been carelessly kicked aside by her foot.

She stepped into the corner, just as Harry fell out of the tunnel chute. He blinked in surprise, and Alice sighed. _Honestly, he's incredibly thick – did he really expect nothing to go wrong? No wonder he's not in Ravenclaw…_ Even in mortal peril, her greatest asset—being judgmental—came to her aid.

"Glad you decided to join us, Mr. Potter," Lockhart smirked, his hands completely still.

 _This isn't the first time he's done this,_ Alice realized. Her teeth shrunk slightly, and she gulped, once again realizing the far greater danger than being killed—being discovered! She had no way to explain herself to the Gryffindors, and she knew that they wouldn't hesitate to leave her to rot. She was a Slytherin. It was only natural.

"I see you're still a coward, professor," Harry said quietly. "No wonder Cornish Pixies got the best of you."

Alice snickered slightly, finding herself warming up to Harry. It must have been her nerves.

"Very funny, Harry," Lockhart laughed, his voice strained and his eyes wide. "Did you ever wonder about it, how I could be so… awful yet so loved?"

"Everyday, professor," Harry admitted. "No one really understood it—you're rather… stupid, sir."

Everyone, except for Lockhart, snickered softly. The gloomy atmosphere of the Chamber of Secrets fell away, leaving behind a comical and morose sight. Lockhart frowned, clutching Ron's wand tighter, his hand still eerily still.

"Thank you, Harry," Lockhart seethed. "You see, there was one thing I was rather gifted at—memory charms. Would you care to see?"

An almost sinister smile crept onto his face, bringing back the ghoulish appearance of the Chamber of Secrets. He raised Ron's wand, and without hardly even whispering, cast, _"Obliviate!"_ A jet of light emerged from his wand, and Remus let out a muffled scream.

Lockhart staggered back, a look of cluelessness coming across him.

"Oh dear," he muttered. "I seem to be lost…"

Alice blinked, feeling Hermione's features more and more rapidly disappearing. Harry, Mairead, Ron, and Remus all stepped forward to examine Lockhart and see what had happened. Alice saw no reason to wait. She took off running as quietly as she could in a field of bones, and found a sort of entrance, carved with snakes on the side.

Recalling how Harry had opened the entrance, she softly mimicked his voice. It took her a good five minutes, and dimly, she could hear the Gryffindors frantically discussing the state of the idiotic professor.

Meanwhile, the hatch opened softly, revealing her escape. Her hair had already begun to turn black, and she quickly jumped inside the hatch, hardly paying any attention to where she was going. It shut behind her, the sound echoing in her ears.

Pools of water were on either side of her, with a long and magnificent pathway leading to a twisted and ancient statue. Professor Garter would have died to have seen it, and Alice couldn't help but smile slightly at the thought. Snakes were crawling out of the statue's mouth, twisting and curling in the most bizarre configuration. However, despite all of its grandeur, it wasn't the focal point of the room.

The focal point was the corpse of Ginny Weasley.

In films, Alice would have run to Ginny's corpse and cried, perhaps lamenting about how they should have traded places. Yet as it stood, Alice was grateful to be alive, and she raised her wand, carefully looking around the desolated chamber. Ginny's killer, she reasoned, couldn't be very far from here.

"I know you're out there," Alice said boldly, as she felt her body stretch and contract, assuming its normal proportions once again.

"There's no fooling you, is there?" a young, handsome voice teased. "I've heard a lot about you from… Ginny."

Alice kept her wand up, and in an instant, her jaw snapped back into place. She no longer resembled Hermione Granger. She gulped, realizing her vulnerability—the very fate she had so desperately avoided lurked in front of her. The Heir of Slytherin was in this very room, waiting to slay her, and mix her blood with that of Ginny Weasley.

"I've heard nothing about you," Alice murmured. "I got your notes—shame you didn't sign your name."

"I'm surprised you haven't heard of me," the voice laughed, stepping into sight.

The voice belonged to a boy, pale and charming. His rich chocolate hair complemented his complexion, and a neat pair of Slytherin robes adorned with a badge identified him as a prefect.

"I don't pay much attention to boys," Alice admitted, clenching her wand. "But I know that I haven't seen you around—you aren't a student."

The boy shook his head. "Not anymore—it's been about fifty years or so since I opened up a textbook."

He chuckled a bit, casting a glance down at Ginny. Alice didn't dare take her eyes off of him, fear enveloping her and forcing her to use every bit of concentration she had to not merely run away and attempt to hide.

There would be no running from this.

"Is she dead?" Alice asked plainly.

"She will be," the boy shrugged. He bent down, picking up a book that had fallen near Ginny's body. He brushed it off, and gleaming letters identified him.

"You're Tom Riddle," Alice said quietly. The name was strangely familiar, yet she couldn't place where. Images of old and faded documents came to her mind, but she quickly brushed them away, instead focusing on the task at hand.

"I was," Riddle admitted, tossing the diary aside.

"Who are you now?" Alice asked, daring to cast a glance towards Ginny's broken and feeble body.

Her skin had turned a slight shade of blue, and blood covered her fingertips. Her robes were ripped and shredded, with a crude void where the Gryffindor insignia had been. Alice frowned, before glancing back up at Riddle.

He smirked, waving his wand. His name appeared in golden letters, and Alice sighed, watching his theatrics. After going to all of her parents' films and plays, she had grown quite sick of dramatic reveals.

"Voldemort," Alice said, her eyes wide. "You should have started with that one."

His eyes flashed scarlet, shrinking into slits, before expanding once more. A feline turn of his cheeks set Alice's heart hammering, and for a mere moment, she glimpsed past his eyes, and saw nothing. A strange notion told her he was missing his soul.

His nostrils flared, as he stepped delicately over Ginny's body—not out of respect, but in the same way one steps over mud to avoid dirtying themselves. "You'll learn to fear that name."

"Looking forward to it," Alice squeaked, her voice cracking miserably. "Is this the part where you kill me, or do you have another dramatic reveal to handle first?"

"You're rather chatty," Riddle mused, glancing darkly down at Alice's feet, before looking her straight in the eyes. "Maybe I should cut out your tongue."

"House loyalty doesn't mean much these days," Alice muttered quietly. "Isn't Slytherin all about loyalty to your own? Brotherhood—or sisterhood, really, don't see why it's just one gender…"

Riddle turned around, and stared up at the large statue, the head gazing out in defiance towards Riddle and Alice. The tentacles around it almost were squirming, and a soft hiss escaped from Riddle's mouth, only to be cut off by a sharp scream.

"GINNY!"

A moment later, a jet of red light hit Riddle in the leg. The aim poor; the intentions good. For a moment, Riddle froze in place, but then he moved into action once more, his eyes glowing a soft shade of crimson.

"He's not human!" Alice hissed at Harry, quickly scanning around the room for a way to escape. She caught a brief glimpse of Ginny—her skin had turned an icy white, and her chest had ceased to rise and fall.

It was too late for her.

Harry's eyes widen when he looked at Ginny's still form, and without saying another word, he began to attack Riddle viciously. Each spell would pass through him as if he were a ghost, with only the occasional few taking a clear, concrete effect. Riddle chuckled darkly, and when he spoke, the words of a serpent dripped from his mouth.

The Chamber of Secrets rumbled, and a monstrous snake crawled out of the walls, splashing down into the pools on either side. Harry continued lashing out at Riddle, who became more and more human by the second. Alice, however, was more preoccupied with the ancient monster slowly making its way towards them.

"Harry, we have to go!" Alice shouted. "It's no use—she's dead!"

"She can't be!" Harry screamed, his eyes blinded by tears. "And—and—how are you here, Alice? Where's Hermione?"

"She's… She's fine!" Alice frantically shouted back, having no time to explain. "We need to get out of here, or we'll be good as dead!"

Harry clutched at Ginny's body, and Alice sighed. _Emotions! Getting in the way of everything! Typical!_ She glanced at the devilish snake, and for a moment, attempted to recall every defensive spell that Professor Lockhart had ever taught her.

She couldn't come up with a single one.

" _Wingardium Leviosa!"_ Alice shouted, swishing and flicking her wand at the basilisk. The head jerked back and crashed into the floor, yet it did nothing to disturb the creature. Instead, it angered it more.

"You silly little mudblood!" Riddle sneered. "And to think, your dirty blood was let into _my_ house? You make me _sick_!"

Alice didn't have time to retort. The basilisk came charging at her once more, and she adverted her eyes in fear. _"Flipendo!"_

The basilisk's head flew backwards once more, awkwardly folding in on the rest of its body. A fang ripped out from the force, landing a few feet in front of Alice. Harry continued to weep over Ginny, attempting to rouse her to no avail.

"Potter, get the fang—maybe stabbing it will get Ginny back!" Alice hissed. "Stop being so useless!"

Harry looked up, his eyes shining with tears, as if he had seen Ginny's ghost and knew it was far too late for her. He nodded, and grabbed the fangs, just as the basilisk reared its ugly head. He charged the basilisk, and at the moment, Alice's eyes fell upon Riddle's. She jolted, realizing that she had seen them before.

 _It can't be…_

She heard an inhuman scream, and in a moment's notice, the basilisk fell upon her and Ginny. She screamed for help, expecting it to devour her, but it remained still—it was dead. Harry's soft sobbing could be heard as he frantically shoved it aside, grabbing Ginny.

"She's dead, Harry," Alice said quietly, watching him distantly, despite being only a few feet away. "Just… let her go."

Harry shook his head. "There's still a chance!"

"You know that isn't true," Alice murmured quietly. "Come on… Let's get out of here. There might be something worse than a basilisk left in this place."

She stared into Harry's eyes, the green slowly becoming dark. The sepia tones of a photograph spread across him, and in a moment, Alice saw her Grandmother Holmes. In the next moment, Riddle's jeering face appeared before her.

The eyes were the very same.


End file.
